The Assassin's Decision
by Isabel Juno
Summary: The sequel to Opposites the rewritten version.... The team slowly begins to heal... GCR and NickOther.
1. Rain

Author: Isabel Juno

Title: The Assassin's Decision

Disclaimers: the day i own the csi characters is the day penguins take over the world...GO PENGUINS!

Summary: this is the sequel to Opposites.. the rewritten version..

Rating: M for adult content and sexual suggestion

R&R please... i'm still new to writing fanfiction so please let me know what you think and thanks to all my buddies Mj0621 especially! hugs!

The Assassins Decision

By Isabel Juno and Mj0621 (for helping me through my writers block! Love ya! hugs)

Rain

Gil sat on the back deck with his eyes closed and his face upturned enjoying the sound of the rain slamming into the soft and already sodden ground. He felt guilty, a member of his team was dead and here he was less than a week later enjoying the rain, halfway dozing in the comfortable wicker chair. Here he was alive and happy when a member of his team, a csi he had mentored, was dead. He breathed in the smell of the rain and caught a whiff of a familiar perfume in the air.

"Hi Cath." She stared at him in amazement.

"How on earth do you do that?"

"I'm talented." She rolled her eyes at him and put her hands on her hips in that "Catherine Willows" manner that defined her. He smiled sensing her stance.

"Alright. The truth is I can smell your perfume." She just stared at him, unwilling to believe that his nose was sensitive enough to detect her perfume with the rain coming down like it was. She decided to let the subject drop.

"What are you thinking about?" She asked as she sank onto the wicker couch next to Gil's chair. He lowered his head but kept his eyes closed. He frowned and let his guilt show through.

"I can't help feeling like Sara's death was my fault. I know I wasn't there and that I had no actual hand in her death but…She died on an assignment. An assignment I handed to her and made her take. I feel like I condemned her to die." Cath stared at the emotionally tortured man in front of her trying to think of a way to make his pain and guilt go away. She finally settled on spelling out the truth for him.

"There was no way you could have known that anybody would get hurt and Sara did not follow her instructions. She was only supposed to get close and gather information not follow mobsters to their meeting and spy on them. I really hate to make this look like Sara brought this on herself, because nobody deserves what happened to her, but she ignored orders and procedure. She took a gamble and suffered the consequences. Now all we can do is get the bastards who killed her." She studied Gil's face. He showed no reaction, gave no sign he'd even heard her. She sighed, Gil was a good man, a great boss, and the best friend she'd ever had. In fact it was on their undercover assignment that they'd become more than friends and now he was sitting here moping about a lost colleague and friend on her back deck. He'd spent the night at her house. They'd been discussing how to process the mob case, which they'd been given control over because of Sara's death and the kidnapping of Greg Sanders and Miles. The boy, Miles, still refused to tell them who he was and they'd been unable to find out. There was no missing persons report of a boy of his description and his prints weren't in the system. His DNA had been run through turning up nothing. Greg was taking care of the boy for the time being. Everybody had been fine with that. The two had bonded during their captivity and escape and Miles wouldn't go anywhere without Greg. Greg was out cold on her couch and Miles was upstairs playing with Lindsey. Greg had been staying with various co-workers since Sara's death. He didn't feel like he could go home. Nobody knew why and Greg didn't seem to know either, all he knew was whenever he went near his house he would break down and would start sobbing. Miles didn't mind moving around, he seemed to be used to it. Gil, Cath, and Linds had all taken a shine to Miles. He had a gentle, quiet, and mischievous manner about him. He was incredibly empathic as well; he always knew when to leave people alone and when to comfort them. He was almost always shy smiles and he loved to tell stories and jokes. His electric blue his were always moving in a semi-paranoid manner and his hands were almost never still. His dark brown hair was slightly wavy and fell just short of his eyes. He had a thin face and an intense stare that, when not accompanied by a smile, looked borderline deadly. He had hidden behind Greg for most of the night of he and Greg had escaped but as soon as Lindsey had been brought in to try to get him to talk he opened up and started telling jokes and stories, anything to avoid talking about his past. They had asked only occasionally in a casual manner after observing how he'd shut down the moment they directly questioned him. So far they'd only found out he hadn't lived anywhere for longer than a month in the last 4 years. Lindsey had taken a real liking to the boy and had basically become best friends with him. Miles seemed almost confused about the concept of friends. He seemed to have had very little positive social interaction in his young life. Cath reflected on this while Gil sat in silence replaying the last two weeks in his mind trying to think of a way Sara's death could have been prevented without people losing their jobs. He couldn't think of anything but it didn't stop him trying. He opened his eyes slowly and watched the pensive Catherine for a moment.

"What time is it?" She looked up at him startled.

"Um..." She glanced at her watch, "It's a quarter past 4p.m."

He sighed.

"Do you want to make dinner or should I or should we just order out?" She sat contemplating.

"Do you have any cash?"

"No."

"Then you're cooking." Gil laughed and nodded.

"Ok, but you've been warned." She laughed and leaned in towards him. He smirked. She stopped.

"What are you smirking at?" His mouth twitched with suppressed laughter. He shook his head struggling not to laugh. She frowned. This was too much for him, he burst out laughing; Catherine felt bewildered. She asked him what he was laughing at and he just laughed even harder in a sort of desperate halfway hysterical way. She stood up quickly moved over to him and roughly shook his shoulders.

"GIL! CALM DOWN!" His laughter had melted away to tears and her heart broke to see it. She hugged him fiercely. He hung there limply as she held him. He continued to sob and she continued to hug him. After a little while the crying stopped and he just sat there silently; at some point in the crying he'd started to hold her to him and he was still holding her to him, as if she were his grip on his sanity. He let her go after a while and wiped his face. He looked embarrassed.

"Um…I'm going to go get dinner started." He stood up very fast and bee-lined it for the kitchen door before she could say a word. She sat staring at the spot where a second before Gil had sat. She was scared. Never in her life had she seen Gil broken like this. He'd always been the strong one, and now he was the one barely hanging on. It was one of the scariest ideas she'd ever considered. Gil had always been the unbreakable one. Something that could break Gil was something that could destroy the entire grave shift. Gil was the glue that had held them together. All around her the rain kept coming down.

The Wake 

Gil sat staring absentmindedly at his drink struggling to avoid his one job here. He'd already refused to give a eulogy, he didn't think he had a right too. He sighed as he heard the dreaded footsteps approaching.

"Mr. Grissom." He turned around to face Laura Sidle, Sara's mother.

"Mrs. Sidle."

"What happened to her? How could she have been killed?" Mrs. Sidle looked to be near tears over her daughter's death. Gil thought about his answer. The truth was he'd been unable to think of one.

"I've been wondering the same thing Ma'm." She stared at him. Seemingly unable to believe that her daughter's supervisor and mentor wouldn't be able to give her a good answer. She looked at him incredulously. He'd simply smiled sadly and given her his condolences. Then he'd walked off to the bar to drink away the loss of his friend. Time to think. That's what he needed. He glanced over at Catherine and caught himself admiring her beauty. He smiled to himself thinking of that night only a few days before when he'd sang several Frank Sinatra songs for her and when they'd kissed for the first time and when they'd made love that night. He'd known that night he never wanted to be without her again. He knew that this seemed cliché but it was true. She felt his eyes on her and caught his gaze. He smiled guiltily, caught in the act. She smiled seductively at him before she was distracted by Lindsey and Miles who were trying to tell her a joke. Apparently the joke was a good one because Gil could hear her laughter from his seat at the opposite end of the bar. He grinned to himself and jumped as Greg thudded his beer down on the bar.

"Hi." Greg muttered. His eyes were red and bleary. He'd been crying.

"Hey Greg. How are you holding up?" Greg stared at him blankly.

"I'm trying not to think." Gil nodded, he understood. Greg was still in shock. They all were. Two days before Sara had been alive and now… she wasn't. None of them really knew how to handle it. Warrick wanted to work, Greg wanted to forget, Catherine wanted to work, Gil wanted to cherish all that he had, Jim wanted to break some skulls, Nick wanted to forget it all and focus on his beautiful girlfriend, and Ecklie wanted his job back. Gil decided to make sure Greg was ok but he didn't know just how too. Greg solved the problem for him.

"We still haven't found Miles' parents or any family. He's not helping either. I don't want him in a foster home or anything like that. I'll take care of him for the meantime is that ok?" He gave Grissom a look that was both pleading and determined. He was going to watch the kid whether Grissom okayed it or not. Gil smiled.

"I think that can be arranged. I know Miles would love that." Greg seemed relieved. He directed his full attention back to his beer allowing Gil to direct his towards his bourbon. Everyone around them was mourning the loss of a friend and none of them knew the secrets her death held.

Regrets 

Greg lay unmoving enjoying the darkness and shelter the inside of his eyelids provided. His own little sanctuary, he needed it. His mind had been restless since Sara had been murdered. His dreams afforded no respite, in them he always saw Sara dying again and again, her corpse pointing a finger accusingly at him, blaming him for her death. He hadn't had a chance to help her and he'd known it. He'd tried and it had gotten him a concussion and 9 stitches. He heard small feet approaching him and he cracked his eyes open to see the smiling faces of Miles and Lindsey.

"Yes?" he asked. The two kids shrugged and looked at him mischievously. He returned their look warily.

"What? Do I have stuff on my face?" They shook their heads simultaneously.

"Then what?" They looked at each other smirked and walked away. Greg sat up annoyed and confused completely unaware that the two kids had drawn a purple Hitler mustache on his face along with 1920's giant cartoon villain eyebrows. Greg yawned and scratched his head lazily. He stood up and slouched towards Catherine's kitchen for a cup of coffee and some aspirin. As he stumbled into the kitchen he saw Grissom standing in front of Catherine's stainless steel fridge peering in at the contents.

"Hi." Said Greg mildly. Apparently Grissom hadn't known he was there because he jumped a mile high and hit his head on the inside of Cath's fridge.

"OWWWW!" Moaned Grissom. He rubbed his bruised scalp and turned to face Greg wincing as he touched his head.

"Hi Greg. How'd you sleep?" Greg smiled apologetically.

"Ok I guess. Sorry I didn't mean to startle you."

"Not a problem. Here pitch me some ideas for dinner. I'm cooking." Greg mocked terror.

"AHHH! Grissom cooking! AHHH!" Grissom smiled and mocked threatening Greg with his fist. Greg returned the grin and strode over to the fridge and examined the contents critically.

"Hmmm……… cucumbers, chicken, soy sauce, grape jelly, milk, Tai chili sauce, margarita mix, and eggs. Not much here." Greg murmured. Grissom looked thoughtful as he chewed the inside of his cheek for a moment thinking hard.

"Greg, check the cabinets for vinegar and rice." Greg opened various cabinets and cupboards.

"Aha! Found rice… and apple vinegar…. Will that work?" Grissom grimaced.

"It'll have to do." He grabbed the cucumbers and tossed them to Greg.

"Slice those up. Make sure they're sliced thinly. Also see if you can find some sugar." As he gave orders Gil dashed around the kitchen slicing up the chicken, prepping rice and grabbing various bowls and pans. Greg searched the cabinet above the stove standing on his tiptoes wondering how Catherine could possibly reach it. His questing fingers hit a bag he thought might be sugar; he pulled it out and found himself staring at a bag of kitty litter. He paused to wonder why Catherine had kitty litter if she didn't have a cat. He put the grey bag back and resumed his search finally rewarded by a small plastic container with pure white granulated sugar, which he set on the counter and began slicing up the cucumbers expertly into thin slices. As the knife came down each time it made a loud thud that resounded through Greg's ears reminding him. Reminded him of the loud sickening thud of the lead pipe against Sara's skull. Sweat beaded on his face, Grissom noticed and he looked worried.

"Here, Greg why don't you cook the rice and watch the chicken I'll take care of the cucumbers… you're not slicing them fast enough." Greg immediately dropped the knife and traded places with Grissom. They both knew why Grissom had really switched him jobs and Greg was grateful for it. The sizzling of the chicken browning in the pan covered the sound of the cucumber decapitation taking place at the little island of Catherine's kitchen. Grissom came over to check on Greg's chicken monitoring progress and to steal the vinegar; he didn't look at Greg's face, for which Greg was grateful. He didn't want Grissom to see him crying again, it'd been happening far to often in the past few days. He needed to stop falling apart like this. He stared at the chicken blankly wondering what life as a chicken was like. He wondered what chickens thought about people eating them. He wondered whether they even thought. He wondered anything to keep him from wondering if Sara had felt that pipe smash her skull in.

Across the kitchen Gil worked quickly and efficiently all the while observing Greg's shoulders shaking slightly with repressed sorrow. Gil's heart went out to the younger man's pain. Greg had been closer to Sara than he had. Greg had wanted Sara's affections. Greg had deeper feelings for Sara than any of the other CSI's had. Greg was the one who had seen her die. Gil glanced at the thinly sliced cucumbers marinating in their sauce of vinegar and sugar. A simple yet delicious cucumber salad was the result of these three ingredients. It was the hurried version of a Japanese cucumber salad, which was far better than his hurried version. Though he still liked this way of making it. No mess, no fuss, just delicious. Greg called to him that the rice and chicken were done and Gil nodded more to himself.

"Could you get some plates out?" Gil asked gently.

"How many?"

"Um… let's see… you, me, Cath, Miles, and Linds. So five."

"Okay then." Greg moved automatically. Gil sighed inwardly. Greg had a long road to travel until he was himself again, if ever. Greg moved in a robotic fashion opening cabinets searching for the plates seemingly unaware that he had forgotten to close the incorrect cabinets. Gil smiled sadly to himself remembering a dark time in his life that he'd had the same problem. He let Greg do his thing knowing from experience that Greg would withdraw further if somebody tried to help him. Greg finally found the dark midnight blue dinner plates and pulled out five. He laid them out in a meticulously neat row on the counter and began doling out the rice. Gil moved silently managing to find excuses for closing each door Greg had forgotten to. He removed drinking glasses and serving dishes all the while thinking of the symbolic meaning of opening and closing doors. He knew he would have to be the one to help Greg close the door on the part of his life that held Sara. That was the only way Greg could move on and live a full life. The problem was getting Greg in a safe environment to talk to him in. He set the table and yelled to the house in general that dinner was ready. Two small bundles of energy came flying down the stairs unbelievably fast and Miles jumped the last several in a vain attempt to impress Lindsey. Gil smirked to himself recalling a time when he'd done the same; Miles had jumped about the last seven stairs though, which was terribly stupid, it always sent a semi-painful jolt through your knees. Catherine sauntered in looking highly fearful at the prospect of dinner cooked by Gil. They all grabbed plates and the kids began stuffing their faces with it and after the first few bites they began to have a competition to see who could finish first. Greg ate mechanically in a not really with it manner that made Gil suspect that not only did Greg not know about the marker all over his face but that Greg wasn't tasting the food he was eating. Catherine poked at her chicken nervously and accepted the soy sauce that Gil proffered to her. He watched her calmly. He knew that she'd like the food if only she'd try it. She tentatively put a forkful of chicken and rice into her mouth well aware that Gil was observing her and waiting to see her reaction. She was stunned as the chicken turned out to be superb as was the rice and cucumber salad. Gil could see the surprise in Catherine's face and smirked at her knowing she'd expected to have to resist gagging. Her eye's told him not to say a word and her face said that she loved the food. The two kids had finished their competition with Miles winning by one bite and him throwing his arms in the air in victory at which point Linds poked him the stomach and made him send rice out his nose, which made him squeal indignantly and in pain. Grissom failed miserably at resisting laughter and laughed so hard he started choking on his Guinness. Catherine continued to laugh even as she smacked Gil on the back to clear his airways. He started laughing even harder until his face was bright pink and Miles had finished getting the rice out of his nose and Linds had fallen out of her chair and onto the linoleum floor from laughing. Catherine was struggling not to laugh and failing and Greg was smirking at all of them giggling just a little bit.

"Not funny." Choked Miles. His voice sounded croaky and made Lindsey redouble her laughing. They all laughed at Miles and Gil's expense until their sides hurt and they were falling around crying from laughter. Miles stalked off saying something about Kleenex and Linds sniggered and followed saying something about not wanting to miss a good show.

"Umm…. Is it ok if I used your shower Cath?" Greg muttered not really looking at anything in particular. Catherine smiled sympathetically at Greg. He wasn't himself and she knew exactly why.

"Of course you can Greg. The towels are in the brown oak cabinet in the bathroom."

"Thanks." He wandered off in a vaguely aimless manner and a few minutes later his feet could be heard pounding their way slowly up the stairs. Gil and Cath sat in silence for a few minutes more. Gil stood up and began clearing the dishes, Catherine noticing this immediately began helping. She noticed that everyone even Greg had eaten all their food. She commented on this to Gil who smiled shyly.

"I guess everyone likes chicken."

"This was a really good meal though and you can't just say it was the chicken." She pinned him against the counter reaching around him to put the last plate in the sink. His arms slid smoothly around her waist his hands joined creating a solid barrier around her holding her to him.

"I wasn't going to let the chicken take all the credit." He said mischievously. She wrapped her arms around his neck and stood on tiptoe to kiss him gently. He grinned and bent down to make it a proper passionate kiss. She wound her fingers through his hair and held him there wishing that the moment would last forever. It was something she found herself wishing a lot when she was with Gil.

"Do you want to go for a walk?" He asked suddenly pulling himself about an inch from her mouth. She stared at him incredulously.

"Gil, it's still raining."

"So? A little rain never hurt anyone."

"True. Let me tell the kids and Greg."

"Okay."

"Gil… if I'm going to tell them you need to let me go."

"Damn."

"I'm not going to hide."

"Good. I'm no good at hide and seek." He gave her a little smile and finally released her. She let her hands slide from his hair and from around his neck down to his chest where she pushed herself off of him gently. She left him standing there cursing himself for suggesting something that meant she had to leave his arms. He wanted nothing more than to be with her. Dark thoughts about another woman he'd felt this for threatened to enter his mind and he forced them back shaking his head and wandering into the living room to find his shoes. Cath knocked and then entered Lindsey's room to find Miles and Linds playing with a mouse. It looked like they were playing fetch. They had a little forest green rubber super ball, which they rolled across the floor and watched the mouse retrieve it and roll it back to them. They looked up as Catherine entered and even the mouse looked at her its tiny little eyes asking who the hell she was. Catherine looked at the small grey mouse and then at her daughter and then to Miles then back to the mouse and Miles and Linds looked at each other unsure of what was about to happen. Catherine thought for a moment, she didn't want to ruin the night, which had been going fairly well. She closed her mouth, which had fallen open, and she thought of something to say to this strange spectacle.

"Gil and I are going for a walk… don't burn down the house." With that she turned around and closed the door leaving two very stunned and relieved children and one very confused mouse, which was still wondering why it felt compelled to keep returning the ball to these two humans. Catherine could just hear Miles muttering to Lindsey.

"Your mom is cool." She could hear Lindsey's surprised and nervous giggle in reply. She smiled to herself and shook her head making her way down the dimly lit hall and knocking on the bathroom door.

"Greg, Gil and I are going for a walk. Linds and Miles are in Lindsey's room. Help yourself to anything ok?" It took Greg a minute to respond and when he did it was a simple dejected.

"Ok. Have fun." She sighed to herself and walked down the stairs to where Gil was smiling warmly at her and holding out her jacket. She gave him her special smile she reserved for him alone and accepted the jacket and arm in arm the walked out into the rain.

Pondering

Greg let the hot water cascade down his frame as he leaned against the tiled wall of the shower. His eyes were closed and his breathing was heavy. Water ran down his face and not all of it was shower water. He was facing the wall the backs of his arms against the wall his head resting in them. He didn't want to think about Sara but he knew he had to. He didn't know how long he stood there. He wasn't sure when the water went iced cold. He didn't notice the goosebumps crawling all over his body and he hardly heard the soft knock that came at the door.

"Greg?" It sounded like Grissom and it sounded miles away from him. He opened his eyes and the dim light in the shower looked weird to him. He blinked a few times and looked toward the curtain of the stand up shower. It was dark blue and he couldn't see anything through it.

"Greg?" Came Grissom's worried voice again.

"Yeah?" Croaked Greg, his voice sounding weird to his own ears.

"Look can I come in?" Grissom sounded concerned and something else that Greg couldn't place. Greg made sure the curtain was firmly closed.

"Yeah." He heard the door open a moment later and then close another moment after that. He heard Grissom find a perch on the sink and he heard the concern in his friends voice as he began to speak.

"Greg… we need to talk. It's been two weeks and you need to accept her death." Greg clenched his eyes shut again and struggled in vain to hold back the tears.

"I know you were closer to her than anyone else was but you need to accept that she's gone. There is nothing that can bring her back." The words resounded in Greg's ears and the water seemed as loud as waterfall. Greg turned around his back to the shower wall and he slid down the wall sitting at the base curling his legs up to his chest and resting his head against the shower wall. He was crying. He knew Grissom could hear him. He knew Grissom was worried. He knew that he'd never hear Sara scold him again. He'd never see her look of disbelief as he did his swami routine or made an off color comment. She was gone.

"I know she's gone. I just don't want to accept it. I don't want to think I'll never get shot down by her again. I don't want to go to work and see her empty locker. I don't want to know she's…" He paused, "I don't want to know that she's… dead." I know she is but I just don't want to believe it. I don't want to do this anymore." Gil listened silently.

"Do you want a transfer?" He didn't want to lose Greg at the lab but if it was what Greg wanted then who was he to deny it to him.

"No." Was Greg's response.

"Then what do you mean…" Then it hit Gil like a ton of bricks. Greg voiced what Gil had just realized and scared Gil to no end.

"Last week I was my apartment to get some clothes and stuff. I was in my room. I have this antique hunting knife my grandfather gave me. I almost cut myself. God how I wanted to. Do you know what stopped me?" Greg was smiling into the shower water. Gil shook his head then realized that Greg couldn't see him and forced his voice to work.

"No." Greg continued to smile into the showering icy water.

"The fact that Miles was waiting for me in the living room listening to my Pink Floyd Dark Side of the Moon cd. That's what. I don't want that kid to lose somebody else he trusts. I can tell he's lost people before. I can't do that to him too." Gil could feel the blood draining from his face. He'd not known Greg was in this bad of a mental state.

"Greg… I know it may not seem like it but life is still worth living, and I don't mean for someone else. But for yourself." Greg felt a stab of anger. Where did Grissom get off giving him advice?

"You don't understand. When I saw that knife I started to slice my wrists apart… that's why I've been wearing long sleeved shirts. If Miles hadn't been there I'd have done it." As he spoke the little smile widened and he ran his fingers over the cut on his left wrist that was starting to heal. Gil sighed inwardly. He had hoped he wouldn't have to tell Greg this.

"Look I do understand. There was a time I was sitting where you are." He took a deep shaky breath and continued unaware that Catherine was standing outside the door listening to everything he and Greg said.

"When I was in college I dated a girl named Liz. She was smart, funny, and beautiful. She and I had met in high school and danced around having a relationship until college. Her brother was my best friend, which was why I hadn't asked her out. But finally she asked me out for a drink and I gave in. That was the beginning. We dated happily until we were 25 and finishing our doctorate work. Liz got pregnant." Catherine heard this and felt as if her heart had stopped. Greg heard this and the little smile, which had been fading since Grissom had begun his story completely faded.

"What happened?" He asked. Gil swallowed hard looking up to the ceiling blinking back tears he'd thought he'd long ago finished shedding.

"She was about seven months along. It was the week before I had planned to propose to her. She was going to get some coffee after class with a friend of ours, Tom Marconny, and they saw a woman being sexually assaulted by this guy off in an alley just off the sidewalk. Liz tried to get him off the woman and before Tom could help, the bastard stabbed her. He ran off… the woman who Liz had saved went to get help and Tom tried to stop the bleeding. Tom was an EMT and he managed to keep her alive until the ambulance got there. She even made it to the hospital…" Gil's voice broke and at the same time Catherine wanted to burst in there and hold Gil, to make his pain go away. Greg sat now avidly listening, he didn't interrupt as Gil took another shaky breath and continued.

"She didn't make it out of surgery. The guy had stabbed her in the heart. She died four hours after he stabbed her. I didn't get to say goodbye. I didn't get to be with her in her last moments. She died on the operating table due to too much stress on the brain… anesthesia didn't work with Liz… she still felt it all. The pain from the wound and the surgery stressed her mind out too much and she died. The baby was removed and it was put into incubation. I got there after Liz died. I wanted to see our child. I was told its lungs weren't formed enough and that it would die. I wanted to hold my baby. She had a name and I got to at least meet her." Gil's voice broke again. Tears rolled silently down his face getting lost in his beard.

"My daughter's name was Rose Marie Grissom. She was so tiny when I saw her. She was crying when I first saw her. They let me hold her and she stopped crying. She was so beautiful." Grissom's face turned to the ceiling and he wondered not for the first time why those terrible events had had to happen. His voice cracked and was thick with sorrow, tears, and fatherly pride as he continued. " She opened her eyes and saw me. She didn't have blue eyes like most babies do. She had her mother's warm grey eyes. She had my curly hair though." He let out a watery laugh in recollection. Catherine sat outside the door crying silently for Gil's loss. Greg sat solemnly absorbing this new information and wondering why Grissom had never told any of them. Gil sniffed and looked down at his clasped hands. His voice was softer now and laced with pain. "I even got to see her smile as I told her that I would take care of her and that when she was older I'd take her to the park and to the zoo. That when she was a teenager I'd screen all her boyfriends and be a pain in the ass overly protective father." The tears streamed down Gil's face leaving hot salty trails and his voice died as he began the final part of his story. "But we both know that didn't happen. She died. She was tough but not tough enough. She was a week old when she died. Her lungs gave out even though they had her hooked up to a ventilator. Rose and Liz's deaths are what made me become a CSI. I had previously planned to stick only to entomological work but I wanted to get their killer. It was that bastard's fault that they died. They never found him, that was the darkest chapter of my life. It's one I never wanted to remember, but never stops following me around. I can't forget it. It's just not possible. I almost killed myself. I wanted to. I didn't want to face life without Liz, without my daughter. But I didn't… a friend pulled me back and stopped me. He got me to the hospital before I could die. At first I hated him for it. He told me that he couldn't save Liz but he sure as well wasn't gonna let me die too. Tom blamed himself for Liz's death as well as Rose's. He'd lost his sister and his niece but he wasn't going to lose his best friend too. Tom was Liz's sister and my best friend. He was a pacifist who liked to talk things out. He found me when I shot myself and he saved my life. He helped me find a reason to live and I thank him for that everyday of my life." Gil fell silent and Greg spoke after a few minutes.

"So what happened to Tom? You keep using past tense." Gil was quiet for a moment.

"He killed himself. I couldn't save him like he saved me. His pain was different. He couldn't handle it all. Liz and Rose weren't why he did it. Neither was my stupidity. It was all of it plus his parents disowning him. They found out he was gay. They told him to get out of their house and never come back. I only know because I was at the house when he told them. He left and went home. He slit his wrists in the tub. I found him." Gil's voice choked up again. Greg stared at the wall, he felt terribly conflicted. He had no idea of anything anymore. All he knew was pain. Catherine sat by the door stunned by what she had learned and loving Gil more than she'd ever thought possible.

End Chapters 1-2

I'll get the next chapter up in a few days


	2. Damned If You Do, Damned If You Don't

Author: Isabel Juno... with many thanks to my friends Mj0621 and Kathleen for the help

Chapter Two of The assassin's Decicsion

See chapter one for disclaimers and summary

R&R please

Damned If You Do Damned If You Don't

Two Days Later

The beautiful erinye stormed down the pristine and sterile halls of Summerlin Hospital with all the rage that only a woman could exude. One of nurses had to quite literally dodge out of her way. She seemed to have tunnel vision and her enraged blue eyes, normally gentle and deep, were icy and spoke of all the fires of hell. The nurse muttered to a passing oncologist who she had nearly bowled over that he would have to be the one to have angered this dark angel. The oncologist nodded his nervous agreement. A rather downtrodden and harassed looking doctor had overheard them and said that if that woman ever came within fifty feet of him again he would file for a restraining order. The oncologist looked bewildered and the nurse stifled a laugh and explained that the doctor had just had his ass handed to him on a silver platter by the enraged woman whose black hair could be seen retreating down the hall. The nurse, whose id tag stated that her name was Andrea, told him that the doctor had made the mistake of flirting with the woman and that she had in less than a second slammed the good doctors face into the wall and twisted his arm cruelly behind his back and had quite calmly informed him that if he ever tried to flirt with her again that she would castrate him on the spot. The oncologist stared in amazement.

"A real firecracker eh?" The nurse smiled and shook her head.

"Try more like a hydrogen bomb."

"Wow." The oncologist ran his hand over his balding head and looked down the hall where the ball of fury had disappeared.

"Who do you think all that rage is gonna get taken out on?"

"I dunno but I do know this. I really don't want to be that person."

"Why was she here anyway?"

"Somebody tore up her husband apparently."

"Well I think she knows who that somebody is and I don't think she's gonna let the police handle this." The nurse just stared at him.

"I don't think they could handle whoever did this." She half whispered staring down the hall to the patient's room.

"What do you mean?" The confused M.D. inquired.

"You'd have to see this guy's injuries. A couple stab wounds. Broken ribs, each and every one. Bruised spleen and pancreas. Hell, they've had to do two surgeries to stop the bleeding in his lungs. The bruising on his face is bad enough. 87 stitches."

"Damn!" The oncologist, whose id tag said his name was Josh Mazinte, had never heard of somebody not in an industrial accident needing so many stitches in their face. Again he ran his hand over his balding head and stole a glance down the hall toward the elevators. The nurse followed his gaze.

"All I know is that I don't want to be the guy who did that. Especially if she gets at him before the cops find him." Josh nodded in agreement. There was nothing he feared more right now than that woman coming back to kick his ass for the hell of it. It reminded him of something his father had told him the night his mother had stormed out of their house calling his father a bastard and swearing at him in Spanish. His father had told him something about a woman's vengeance and he couldn't quite recall it. But down in the lobby and storming her way out to her Yamaha R1 SP motorcycle and revving it up and zigzagging her way through the five o'clock rush. She really didn't see any of it. Her body moved on autopilot. She was heading to her dusty apartment for the first time in a week and she was going to pick up a few choice items and report in to her boss. She screeched the sleek motorcycle to a halt and vaulted off it using her hands and vaulting into a perfect front flip landing easily like a cat and slinking into her apartment building before the bike even came to a complete stop. She noticed that her hands were shaking with rage as she struggled to fit her key into the worn lock. Swearing to herself she roughly jammed the key in and turned it. There was a soft click and the door opened silently. She entered stealthily and took in her surroundings swiftly. If anyone else was here she didn't want to lose the advantage of surprise. It turned out she didn't need to worry about that. She'd already lost it. Her vengeful eyes took in the scene calmly, her terrified landlord on the floor blood gushing out his nose; the two weasels crouching beside him with knives in their hands. Her eyes narrowed as she saw the knives. She didn't let herself wonder if these were the knives that had stabbed deep into the flesh of the man she'd fallen head over heels for. The two guys looked at each other. Kelner the darker one looked down at the quivering 40 year old asian man on the floor.

"Well we know where she is now. I guess we don't need you." With those indifferent words he twisted the man's head and snapped his neck before his hapless victim could even speak. She smiled, this would be fun. The smile turned into a grimace as she grabbed the door pulled it to her and slammed it hard into the wall. She was rewarded by a sickening crunch followed by a dull thud and the third man, the watchman, fell to the ground his knife driven into his own stomach by the force of the door. She smirked to herself, a whole new meaning to doing yourself in. She slammed the door closed as she strode confidently into her living room as the two mob members rose to meet her. The first one, a short slimly little Italian man with a talent for inflicting pain, dashed at her, his knife close to his side ready to stab her low in the side to puncture her kidneys. She grabbed his knife arm with an unimaginably steely strong grip. It was so strong that he dropped the knife. It hit the floor with a clatter. She kneed him in the groin. He fell like a rock. She grabbed his greasy black hair and slammed his face into the dividing wall between her kitchen and the living room. He fell; she didn't know whether he was dead or not. She had a far bigger problem right then and there. His friend, Kelner, had a gun. Knives were one thing, but guns were another. Her eyes narrowed and she spoke almost casually.

"Ya know… I've never liked guns. Doesn't seem like fair play does it?" He let out a gruff laugh and raised the gun pointing it at her head. He pulled the trigger. The next thing he knew she was behind him, the Italian man's knife at his throat.

"How…?"

"Didn't anyone ever tell you to aim for the bodies center not the head? You miss more often when you aim for the head." With these sage words she pulled the knife hard. His eyes asked how. His mouth moved like a fish's asking the same thing. How.

"I said I didn't like guns. I didn't say I didn't know how to use one or avoid being hit by one." His eyes stared in shock but there was nothing behind them anymore. His malice had left him and was now pooling around his body from the clean gash in his throat. She went to check the Italian. He was alive, but not lucid. She sighed and went into the kitchen. She made herself a white russian and sipped calmly staring out at the evening skyline. She went into her living room and tied up the Italian. His name was Walter Connelli, but for simplicities sake he was the Italian. He awoke groggy but lucid later only to find himself tightly bound in a chair face to face with a woman sipping a white russian and smoking a cigarette seemingly oblivious to the blood on her red tank top and blue jeans.

"So," She let out a smoky breathe, " your awake. Good. This means that I get my answers sooner. What the fuck was Davy boy thinking? Does he really think I'm going to let him get away with this?" She leaned forward and whispered. "Cause, darling, I won't." The Italian stared numbly. His collision with the wall had convinced him he was going to die. This was just the precursor to the hell that awaited him. He began to pray in latin to god to forgive him. She laughed airily and stood up she walked over to him non-chalantly and sat down on his lap facing him.

"Hunny, praying is no use to you now." She set her drink down on the blood-spattered coffee table and took a long drag off her cigarette and blew it into his face.

"And do you know why?" He shook his head and she leaned closer and spoke into his ear.

"Because hun. I am god." She smiled pulling back and seeing the stoic look on his face.

"Do you know why Davy always picked me for the toughest assignments? It's cause he's always known how much I like this part of the job. The part where I worm information out of you by doing terrible things to you. You think that your so tough don't you darling? You'll talk just like all the others. They always do. I know it sounds cliché but I'm very good at making people talk." As she spoke she drew a knife from his ankle sheathe and examined the light reflecting off the blade. She smiled through the cigarette.

"Now then. Let's get this show on the road shall we? How bout we start with where Davy is?" No answer. "Fine. We'll do this the fun way." She set to work with the knife. His screams would be heard by nobody, she'd soundproofed these walls long ago.

Three hours later 

The water ran down her body as the blood from the Italian and Kelner ran down the drain. She plotted her next move carefully. The Davy fish was one to be carefully caught. But when she did catch him she'd gut and clean him just like any other. Well… there might be some anger behind this one. She stepped out of the shower combing her hair and slipping into a black leather jacket and black jeans. These were her special jacket and jeans. They had many tools in them that she felt certain she'd need later. Most of these tools were sharp and were not used for woodcarving or the carving of a dinner roast. She grabbed her plain old addidas and some black socks slipping them on swiftly and stalked through her apartment throwing a match over her shoulder as she left. The alcohol in the kitchen would ignite and blow the place to hell and as she left she said a small prayer for her landlord's soul and for her own. She pushed all her doubts and worries away and darted down the steps jumping about half of them with ease and landing in a shoulder roll up on her feet and out the door all within five seconds of the match hitting the floor. She swung herself onto the bike and sped away leaving no skid marks, no trace of her bike being there. That was her job. To leave no trail and to leave none alive. She had always been very good at it, but she didn't want to do this job. She'd always hated it. She recalled how she'd been dragged into this. She had murdered a man who had taken her parent's lives in front of her when she was a little girl. She still remembered her mother shaking her father's still form screaming his name. She closed her eyes in pained memory and almost hit a minivan because of it. She forced her eyes to stay open as she also allowed the first tears their freedom. She remembered that bastards slicked back black hair and cruel smirk. She also remembered his look of pleasure when he'd slit her helpless mothers throat. She remembered her parent's blood staining the beige carpet dark red and she remembered her hurling her 10 year old self at that bastard and ramming him in the gut and at the same time sweeping her right foot to knock his legs out from under him and turning as she fell to land her elbow in his stomach and to land her head in a sharp collision with his knuckles. He recovered before she had and he'd pinned her easily. She still remembered the anger in his eyes as he'd snarled in her ear that he would kill her slow for what she'd done. She remembered forcing herself not to scream as the knife had pierced her innocent ten year old skin and had cruelly torn through her like scissors through tissue paper. She never screamed though. She refused to give him that pleasure. She had waited anger fueling her and holding back the worst of the pain. He'd gotten distracted and she'd pushed him off and ran like the Flash grabbing the doorframe to the bathroom to swing her legs up and kick out the small window. She'd immediately followed the broken glass out the window and a two-story fall and a broken leg later she was out. She'd run to the nearest store and bolted in screaming for help. The manager an aging woman with steely gray hair had called for an ambulance and the police. She remembered the hospital. The blinding white walls and the nurses walking about to change her IV drip. She remembered the constant questioning of the police. She remembered the trial where the paid off jury had declared itself incapable of a decision. She remembered the look of triumph on the bastards face as he'd walked out a free man. She remembered having the nightmares for a year. Waking up every night screaming drenched in sweat. This had gotten her switched from foster home to foster home. When she was eleven she got her chance for vigilante justice. She found him drinking a glass of Jack Daniels and she knew he was still a jackass, murdering, bastard. She wasn't going to let him get away with it. Her eleven year old body moved silently, following him after he left the outdoor restaurant. She had moved stealthily up onto a fire escape knowing that he was going to go down the alley. He vomited behind a dumpster, he had two issues that made him puke, he'd drank too much and he couldn't hold his liquor. She'd dropped down like a cat pouncing on its prey. She'd landed squarely on his back slamming him into his own vomit. She had seen the knife that had taken her parent's lives and her innocence, resting in a sheathe at his side. The bastard carried it. He carried the murder weapon with him. She ripped it out of its cheap leather holder and examined it. The blade was scarred and worn, but it was sharp. The handle was made of cactus and was beautifully carved. All around it was a very delicate and deadly instrument. She had to give the bastard that. He had good choice in knives. He groaned started to come to. She rolled him over and asked him if he remembered her. He stared blankly at her and said no. She had jogged his memory. In a very violent manner. She had slammed the knife handle down into his face again and again. She screamed at him asking him repeatedly if he remembered her. She finally turned the knife around and had driven its point in between his ribs and into his heart severing the pulmonary artery. He had died far to quickly in her opinion. She had taken the knife from him that night. She'd kept it too. After the bastard had let his final breathe escape she'd left that alley determined to live her life as if she'd never seen him. Her past caught up with her a day or two later in the form of a young mobster who had been wondering who killed his best assassin. David Velcher had employed her at age eleven and she'd been working for him ever since. Until now that is. She'd met her last assignment, Nick Stokes, at a Las Vegas hotel called the Orleans. It wasn't an assignment she'd expected to have a problem with. She had been told to use a gun and had been given his name and picture. She had found him without a problem and immediately taken a very strong liking towards the soft-spoken texan. A liking that took very little time to develop into far deeper emotions. That was the only assignment she'd never finished. It was also her last one. Or so she'd thought. Now she had to take an assignment of her own making. She had to kill Velcher. The mob he'd worked so hard to put together would be lost and ripe for arrest. None of the mob members knew her name or her face, she'd always made sure of that. She had only ever dealt with Velcher. Now he would be eliminated. You didn't go after somebody she gave a damn about and live to tell the tale… she'd killed people for less. She sped through a red light and shook herself attentive just in time to avoid ramming into a speeding Porsche Carrera GT. She swore at the driver and at herself. She wasn't really mad at the driver. She knew that if she had that car she would probably speed at every opportunity, plus she had run the red light. She decided not to make an issue of it. She had her Davy fish to fry. It didn't take her very long to find the one star hotel the slimy jackass was staying in. He had chosen to stay at the Golden Palm, it was about a mile off the Vegas strip and had slot machines and had food. That was all David needed. She slowed down and slinked the bike into a parking spot a block away from the hotel. She strode confidently and inconspicuously down the sidewalk ignoring everybody around her as she tunneled in on the hotel. She entered the lobby calmly and immediately walked toward the elevators like she belonged there a bellhop came over to ask if she needed directions and she gave him her look of death and he backed away wordlessly. The hotel door closed on the kids face and he privately hoped that he hadn't soiled himself. He'd seen the murder in her eyes and hoped to god never to see that woman again. She spent the ride up the deserted elevator psyching herself up for what she was about to do. The doors slid open and she stepped out nothing but death and rage in her bluer than blue eyes. The door she wanted was to the left of the elevator and down the dimly lit hall. Her eyes narrowed looking for any signs of a booby trap. He had to know she wasn't going to take this laying down. He had to know she'd go after him. She sighed thinking all the traps lay inside the room at the end of the hall. She had already made her way down the hall without even realizing it. She made the decision that silence would do her little good. She would need to be straightforward about this. She did the simplest thing in the world to get into the room where her soon to be victim waited. She knocked on the door. It took him a moment to answer and he didn't look at all surprised to see her.

"Come in." She had entered calmly understanding that they were going to have to play a verbal game of cat and mouse before anybody died. He closed the door and slid the deadbolt into place and the chain as well. She raised an eyebrow.

"Getting paranoid in your old age." He gave an easy laugh and moved faster than she'd realized he could and lifted her off of the ground pinning her against the wall by her throat. She remained calm and hid the fact that she was now concerned about how easy it would be to kill him.

"You don't ever call me old you foolish bitch! Especially not after that little stunt you pulled!" His anger did not fade but he released her. She landed on the floor breathing deeply. She would not gasp for air like her burning lungs begged her to. She stood up and faced him with an air of indifference about what he had just done.

"So why are you here?" He asked although he knew the answer. He had dropped into a stiff looking office chair like it was the softest bed in the world. The man was not normal and she could not allow herself to underestimate him. He reclined seemingly relaxed. He had overdone the relaxed. He had gone so far as to wear gray sweatpants and a loose cream turtleneck with the sleeves pushed up. He wanted her to think he was relaxed. She analyzed this deciding that this meant he knew she wasn't here to apologize.  
"Why didn't you do your job?" He inquired eyeing her suspiciously. She leaned back against the wall and crossed her arms. She decided to tell him the truth. He had helped her out in the past. He should at least know why.

"I couldn't do it." He raised his eyebrows. His expression demanded more information.

"This one was different. All the others I've killed… all of them. They all had done something to deserve it. Nick was clean, innocent. I have never considered my job murder. I have always believed murder required the dead party to be innocent. I will never be a murderer." She paused watching his expression. He inhaled deeply and crossed his arms the other way.

"That's not all is it?" She shook her head. She bit her lip. This wasn't something she wanted to tell him.

"Well?" He asked expectantly. She glared at him, he didn't look phased.

"I think I love him." He sat up and uncrossed his arms. He hadn't expected that. His eyes flashed angrily.

"What?"

"I think I love him." She felt more sure as she said it that it was true. She had fallen in love with her assignment and it was turning her dark little world upside down.

"Well that's too damn bad." Said David anger quite apparent in his voice. She looked up at him sharply, the anger that had began to dissipate from her eyes, was back in full force and she wielded it like the sharpest sword.

"What do you mean?" David could her the rage in her voice and knew despite his best efforts he would not be able to stand up to this woman in a fight. He needed to tread carefully. These were dangerous waters. She stayed against the wall but she was itching to pace the small room. She wanted to bash David's face in. He wanted to keep her from the first thing that truly made her happy in 23 years. What was the worst about it was that David had dragged his world and had stuck Nick and his friends into it. That had gotten one of their number killed. She knew how the woman had been killed. David had not had the intention of killing Nick. He hadn't used a steel pipe on Nick. He had wanted Nick to live. Nick would live and he would be fine. None of his injuries couldn't he completely healed by modern medicine. She would heal the mental ones herself, as soon as she dealt with David. She pushed herself off the wall and walked over to where David sat looking rather uncomfortable.

"Look here. This is how it breaks down. You had an assignment. The guy wasn't innocent. Nobody is innocent. You've told me that yourself." David was trying to reason for his life and they both knew it. He had forgotten how dangerous she was. He pushed his chair back as far as it would go as she continued to approach him. The Erinye took over her senses and she saw only her target. He scrambled up the chair and back onto the desk as she closed in drawing out the knife he knew had killed her parents, scarred her, and killed its original owner. Anger outweighed fear for a moment.

"I PUT THIS MOB TOGETHER! I KEPT YOU OUT OF PRISON AND OFF THE STREETS! THIS IS HOW YOU REPAY ME?" She stalked up to him unaffected. She had him backed into a corner so scared he couldn't even run. She had the knife pointed at a rather fearful place for a man and she leaned in speaking in his ear.

"I put this mob together. I'm the one who took care of you. You would get nightmares in the night and I'd go kill them for you. I'm the one who made you safe. And how did you repay me? You dragged the man I love down into this deep dark pit that is your world. You had the indecency to not confront me but to go after him. You stupid son of bitch!" With this she stabbed and slammed her hand over his mouth to stifle his screams. Even if she had decided to let him live he would not have let her, not after what she had just done to him. She would now have to kill him or be killed by him. Either way she had no way out now, not that she wanted one. She had a self-imposed mission and she would carry it out with as little fuss as possible… and as much sadistic vengeance as possible. He lunged at her blood now staining his light gray sweatpants she stepped to the side and grabbed him around as he fell she then slammed her knee into his stomach both knocking the wind out of him and effectively pinning him. She stabbed him a few more times and let him fall to the ground clutching at his wounds trying to stop the bleeding. She wiped the knife disinterestedly on the peach bedspread and slipped it back into the inside of her waistband where its sheathe was concealed. She watched David Velcher bleed to death and as the last light began to flicker out of his coal black eyes she whispered to him a phrase that she had heard,

"God hath no wrath like a woman scorned. You hurt Nick and that was scornful to me. You tried to hurt me through him. You didn't even bother to give me the honor of personally hunting me down; instead you had your lackeys do that. They're dead by the way." At this point David didn't look like he much cared about anything. He was too far gone. She crouched down by him and studied him in a manner that suggested she thought he was an interesting bug that was meant to be squished all over the pavement.

"That, my dear Davy, is scorn if I've ever felt it. By the way…" She leaned down to his ear and whispered into it. His eyes widened and looked shocked. Then the light disappeared and his breathing stopped. She studied him a moment more before patting his shoulder in a casual and friendly manner before walking out of the hotel room and her old life. The bellhop saw her stride out of the elevator a few minutes later and he looked for a place to hide before realizing she'd flashed him the most dazzling and shy smile he'd ever seen. He stood gawking at her like an idiot convinced that this angel of beauty couldn't be the woman with the damning stare that screamed of death that he had seen enter. She wasn't the same woman in some ways. That woman had been left in the hotel room with David Velcher.


	3. Confessions

Author: Isabel Juno

Title: The Assassin's Decision:Chapter 3 Confessions

Disclaimers: the day i own csi is the day that the prez learns that is not nucular and that its nuclear... so yeah... never... sad...

Read and reviews please!

Confessions

Gil came into the kitchen looking tired and half dead. Catherine looked up at him. His eyes were slightly red and puffy. He avoided her gaze.

"Jim called." She told him softly. He was standing in front of the door his head resting on it. He didn't turn to face her.

"What did he say."

"Nick's been hurt." Gil turned around sharply his eyes attentive.

"What? What happened?" Gil's concern was written all over his face.

"He was attacked on the strip when he responded to somebody calling out for help. He saw who they were and he's working with a sketch artist. He's pretty beat up." Cath paused. Gil was shaking with rage. His eyes were closed tightly, his nostrils flared with poorly suppressed anger, and his fists were clenched so tightly that his knuckles were bone white. Gil was furious that somebody would attack another member of his team. They didn't need this right now. Warrick was gone on the briefing of what had happened on the undercover stint. He would be in Washington explaining what had gone wrong. Gil was glad it wasn't him. He still didn't know what had happened. It was a week and a half later and he still didn't know. Jim was on leave and had only known about Nick because of a friend of his worked in the hospital. Poor Greg was still a mess of a tattered human being. Miles was afraid to tell them his full name or anything about his past. Now some jackass in the street hurt Nick, the only one of them besides Gil and Cath, to come out of this with something good. There would be retribution. Gil would make sure of that. Enough pain had been caused without somebody trying to kill the sensitive texan, who everybody on the team cared about. Gil smacked his fist on the doorway. He didn't seem to notice the fact that something in his wrist had made an audible cracking sound and that his fist had broken part of the doorframe off. He didn't even notice that the bit of the wooden doorframe he'd broken was now jammed deep into his fist breaking the skin and tearing through the muscle. It was about and inch and a half long sliver of wood. Catherine walked over to him and gently took his arm off the wall leading him silently to the table and seating him in a chair. He didn't fight her, he just followed silently. He dropped into the chair, his eyes burning circles into the table. She went upstairs and paused by the guest room wondering if she should tell Greg. She decided against it. She didn't want him to get even more depressed. She went to the bathroom and snagged the first aid kit before returning to the kitchen where instead of finding Gil sitting still glaring at the table, she found an empty room. She went out onto the porch to find Gil sitting in the wicker chair staring off into space ignoring the blood beginning to pool in the washcloth he'd wrapped his hand in. She walked in front of him demanding his attention; instead he continued to stare, now at her midriff. She took his hand and sighed noting the particular washcloth he'd used. It was an old ratty one she'd bought on sale. She wished that he'd grabbed a nicer one, one of the ones that didn't shed fibers. She grabbed some tweezers from the first aid kit and began to remove the splinters and bits of dull white fiber. He didn't seem to notice her ministrations and didn't even flinch when she tried to slip out the sliver of wood, which was now soaking in his blood like a vampiric piece of pine. She glanced up at his glazed expression. He seemed completely lost in his own thoughts. So it startled her when he spoke completely out of the blue.

"So are you going to get that bit of wood out of my hand or are you squeamish?" She frowned at him and gave the sliver of wood a slight tug. It seemed stuck fast.

"Well I don't want to hurt you." He looked down at her and frowned. He grabbed the nuisance in his fist and wrenched it out, twisting it as he did so to avoid shedding more splinters inside the wound. The look of repressed pain on his face made Catherine want him to stop. He seemed to notice her expression as the blood soaked annoyance finally was worked out of his skin.

"It had to come out sooner or later." He studied the sliver in a sort of morbidly interested manner. It was about an inch and half long with the green paint stained with rich red blood. Gil thought it looked a bit like a demented Christmas tree. Catherine thought it looked like and dark green dagger. Gil set it down on the washcloth and grabbed a q-tip and some antiseptic. She looked at him like he was nuts. At this point she was keeping the idea open. He noticed her stare as he applied the stinging ointment.

"I'm used to pain… it doesn't really affect me as much as it should." She stared at him wondering how much about him she didn't know. It seemed like he was leaving some important things out of what he revealed about himself. She wrapped the gauze bandage around his hand watching his face, which looked distant and tired.

"I just don't get it." He muttered to nobody in particular. She paused in the bandage wrapping to look worriedly at him. He gently to the bandage from her and finished the wrapping quickly.

"Do you think we should tell Greg considering…" She stopped realizing her mistake. Gil looked sharply at her also noting her mistake. He looked hurt and angry.

"You listened in." It wasn't a question or even an accusation; it was a statement. She nodded biting her lip and looking down at her hands like a child who had been caught fibbing. Gil stared out in to the continuing rain. Neither his eyes nor his face revealed what he was thinking. Catherine was scared. She knew Gil was a very guarded person who only revealed things when he felt comfortable doing so. He sighed. They sat silently for a few minutes while Gil collected his thoughts.

"I didn't really want you to know." She stared at him in disbelief.

"Well I understand its not something you'd really want to talk about but…" She trailed off, unsure what to say. He looked at her with the strangest look she'd seen on his face in a long time.

"Cath, this isn't something I ever try to think about. It's a very painful part of my past I'd rather not remember. It brings up to many memories and regrets. I want to focus on the future not the past." She watched him trying to puzzle him out. She hadn't been this confused about him since she met him and he started quoting Edgar Allen Poe's the Raven on a crime scene. Now she was used to that and was bewildered by such reasonable behavior, it was too normal. Gil was somebody who had always had normal emotions; he just went about them in a different way. This was… strange… Gil never acted like this. He respected the past and tried to learn from it. She had never seen him hide from it… had she. While she pondered this Gil struggled with his own emotions. He had never intended to tell Catherine about Liz and his daughter. It was too painful to think about. First he'd lost Liz because she was too strong of a woman to let somebody get hurt even if she couldn't do anything about it, but she wasn't strong enough to beat death. Then he'd lost his precious little girl, he hadn't had enough time with her. He knew that was something he'd always regret. He figured that was why he was so protective and active in Lindsey's life. It was a psychological thing. He didn't really know what to think of it. It had always been there. Now the woman he loved was poking at those old wounds, which had never healed fully and never would. He knew that Catherine had a right to know but he also knew he never thought it would be terribly relevant. The two sat staring off into space lost in their own thoughts and the rain continued.

Turning points 

Greg sat dripping onto the bedspread of the tan guest bed in Catherine's house. He thought about what Grissom had told him. He had never known Grissom's past. He didn't think that any of the other CSI's knew either. He wondered if anybody besides the people who had known Grissom at the time knew about it. Grissom had chosen to live. Even after almost taking his own life, Grissom had chosen to live. Greg had never in his life expected to feel such pain and loss. His hands shook as they held the knife he'd kept in his bag. He hadn't told Grissom he'd taken it with him from his apartment. He knew Grissom would have confiscated it like his mother had confiscated his playboys when he was a teenager. He stared at the shining blade, which reflected the moonlight streaming through the window; the reflections danced off the walls like light dancing in water. He still wanted to end it all. He glanced at the half-healed slashes on his wrists, wondering if he really could just end it all with two quick, deep slices. It was an idea that he held close to him. Greg Sanders had never really believed in an afterlife, the idea didn't have any real scientific basis. However, if there was even a chance it existed and that Sara was there… he was willing to risk it. Wasn't he? He paused again in mid-slash thinking of Miles, the boy trusted him completely and he would be alone if Greg did this. He would alone. The words rebounded through Greg's skull like a rubber ball in a small room and something clicked. It wasn't just in his mind that something clicked either. The door opened as Catherine popped her head in to tell him something, her eyes fell on the blade in his hands. Her eyes widened and she darted inside the room. Greg dropped the knife onto the floor and it landed with a soft thump. So close… He closed his eyes. He didn't know what had clicked, Catherine had distracted him from whatever it was. She looked at him with a look of fear and disbelief. Her face asked him what the hell he was thinking and her eyes asked if he was ok. Greg just stared at her dumbly. He had no idea what had just happened all he knew was sitting her on her guest bed wearing only a dark green towel and that he had been so close to finding what he needed. He felt anger and disappointment. So close. He wondered what she had been thinking. His head felt close to bursting as he, himself burst into frustrated tears. Catherine stood completely confused. She wasn't sure if Greg had been about to kill himself but she couldn't risk it. She felt somebody taller come up behind her and observe the situation over her shoulder. Gil moved into the room placing his hand on Greg's shoulder in both a questioning and comforting manner. Greg's normally annoying manner had been notably absent for the last few weeks, he'd been depressed and Gil had known it. Gil had thought that telling Greg about his own issues would have convinced the younger tortured soul that life was still worth living. He saw the knife by Greg's still damp feet. He saw Catherine bend to pick it up. It was a simple antique hunting knife with a well-worn wooden handle and a scarred old blade. Gil thanked the powers that be that the knife wasn't very sharp. Greg apparently didn't know how to sharpen a knife. Gil could see the healing cuts on Greg's wrists; he could also see very old scars beneath them.

"That time at your apartment wasn't the first time you tried to kill yourself." It wasn't a question really. It was a statement. Greg looked at the scars he knew Gil was talking about and nodded miserably. He just wanted them to leave. He needed to think. He told them as much and before Catherine could protest Gil nodded. He gave Catherine a look that said out of the room. She relented losing her silent battle with Gil but taking the blade with her. Gil patted Greg's shoulder comfortingly and told him that he'd bring him some tea and sleeping pills in a little bit. Greg nodded still staring at his wrists and Gil walked out of the room slowly and closed the wooden door softly before turning to see Catherine's look of death. He sighed,

"Later ok? We need to go check on Nick."

"I'm not leaving Greg alone here." Catherine said firmly.

"I'm not saying we should… Miles and Linds can keep an eye on him." Gil said softly.

"Greg wouldn't want Miles to know that he's tried offing himself!" Gil flinched at Catherine's use of the word "offing", it was the same word that his friend Ronnie had used when he'd yelled at Gil about trying to commit suicide.

"Not so loud. It will do Greg no good to hear us arguing about him. I'll give him some sleeping pills and some tea and we'll go check on Nick when he falls asleep ok?" Catherine glared at Gil for a moment longer and nodded. Greg shut his eyes tightly and listened as Grissom and Catherine walked down the hall going about what needed to be done. He hated them worrying about him. It made him feel useless and a burden unto others. He wondered for the first time if Miles would actually be better off without him. He forced those thoughts out of his head. The boy was so much happier around him. He had to like hanging around Greg if he refused to go anywhere without him. Greg looked at the old scars remembering the incident that had caused both those scars and his decision to become a CSI. Hot tears squeezed out from his eyes and he curled up on the bed in the fetal position trying not to scream. He worked on trying to steady his breath and after a time, Greg wasn't sure how long, he heard the door open softly. A glass giving off a sweet herb filled aroma was set down with a soft clink on the small mahogany nightstand. The person draped a warm soft blanket over Greg's curled up towel-clad form and turned out the light.

"Leave the pills please." Muttered Greg. The sleeping pills were in a smaller glass that made a comforting clink as the person set them down.

"G'night Greg." Greg's eyes snapped open but he didn't move. Miles had brought him the pills and tea. This bothered him to no end and he wasn't entirely sure why. He supposed he didn't want Miles to see him weak. Miles drew on Greg for strength. He had needed Greg in the hospital as he was checked for injuries. Greg sighed and rolled over to look at the pills and sighed. He sat up and drank down the spicy tea quickly. It tasted sharp and fiery going down his throat and Greg suspected Grissom had thrown a little something extra in it. He dismissed this theory a minute later as he felt himself relaxing. Grissom had thrown something extra in there but it wasn't whiskey. He savored the burn like good rum. He contemplated his next move. He wouldn't give up on seeing Sara again. He stared around him in a determined manner. Grissom was wrong; life wasn't worth living if Sara wasn't in it. Miles was a tough kid; he'd get over it.

Same Time Different Place 

Gil and Cath strode down the sterile halls side by side and to anybody who didn't know them it looked like they were two furious parents storming down the halls to check on an injured child. Essentially that's what they were doing. The two senior CSI's were the parents of the grave shift in a sense. Especially over Nick Stokes. They walked into his room barely waiting for the door to open before entering. Nick was sitting up in his bed with half of his face stitched and bandaged talking to beautiful and mysterious Kathleen Storm. Gil had done a background check on her to get more information. She wasn't very forthcoming with her past. Gil's determined search had produced very little information. He knew she'd been born in Michigan and that at age 10 her parents had been murdered. He knew at age 11 she'd disappeared and that she hadn't reappeared until she was 19, at which point she started college at University of Chicago and had gotten a journalism degree. She had published random articles since then. Most of her articles were on the merits or failures of books or movies. She was a harsh critic who occasionally had published articles on criminal cases. The Stanwick murders of Massachusetts had made the news because of her. She was a dangerous woman; Gil could tell that from the way she carried herself. She was strong and capable, her movements were fluid and assured. She sat beside Nick now discussing how much she disliked a book called Comic Epitaphs from the Very Best Old Graveyards. Gil smirked,

"I rather liked that one." She raised her eyebrows,

"You've read it?" Grissom nodded.

"Here lies John Racket

In his wooden jacket

Kept neither horses

Nor mules

Lived a hog died a dog

Left all his money

To fools." Gil quoted in amusement. Kathleen grinned at him.

"I actually liked this one," she began to quote, " To all my friends

I bid adieu

A more sudden death

You never knew:

As I was leading

The mare to drink

She kicked and killed me

Quicker'n a wink." Everyone in the room laughed. Laughing made Nick cough, and coughing caused him pain. The laughing also made him cough up blood. Gil yelled out the door for a doctor while Kathleen and Catherine helped Nick sit up to clear his airways. The doctor rounded the corner to get into the room, moving as fast as an excited seven year old on Christmas morning, he slipped on the linoleum and fell slamming into the wall. A nurse rounded the corner far more gracefully bolting into the room and began to run an endotracheal tube down Nick's throat the doctor had made it into the room by this time and was measuring out some medicine. He stabbed the needle down on Nick's stomach injecting it. Nick had almost lost consciousness at some point but the violent coughing slowed and stopped.

"What did you give him?" asked Gil catching the doctor's arm as he tried to rush out.

"Thromboxane." Came the curt reply.

"He has internal bleeding then?" Gil knew that thromboxane was a clotting agent. The harried looking doctor allowed surprise to register across his features as he nodded. It wasn't everyday that somebody knew what thromboxane was and what it was used for. Gil looked at Nick, concern apparent on his face.

"Is he going to need surgery?" Gil inquired still watching Nick's labored breathing.

"Yes." The doctor didn't feel the need to determine whether this man was family or not. Even if he wasn't family he acted like an angry and worried parent and the doctor knew from experience that dodging such subjects with the parents was on of the dumbest things you could do; typically it resulted in getting socked in the face or getting a rant from the enraged and hysterical parent. No this guy didn't worry him, his anger and concern for the patient didn't worry him. Quite frankly he would have been worried if he hadn't been concerned.

"We'll get him in surgery as soon as I can schedule the surgeon. So within the hour." He added seeing the look on the strawberry blonds face, that look that demanded the best care for her family member. He left still under the delusion that Gil and Catherine were Nick's parents. The nurse was still checking Nick's vitals; she knew that salt and pepper haired man and the strawberry blond were not the patient's parents and she chose not to pursue the issue. Nick's breathing was steady but labored. Gil and Catherine went over to him hesitantly. As if afraid their presence would be enough to damage his frail breathing. The dark haired angel by his bedside was enough to make Nick calm and relaxed even as the surgery team entered in their sea green scrubs and lifted him onto the gurney and rushed him out of the room. She had given him a beautiful confident smile that made him confident that he'd be fine. They rushed him down the hall and rounded many corners sharply, one after another after another. It felt like an insane waterslide and as he faded into complete oblivion he pictured her smile again and he knew she'd be waiting for him when he was out of surgery. He was sure. The blackness overtook him and he was lost in the swimming darkness of the subconscious mind. The surgeon shouted in anger as the patients BP fell and he flat lined. He screamed orders desperately around the room as he struggled to control the hemorrhaging in the stomach.


	4. Rivers

Author: Isabel Juno

Chapter: Rivers

Story: The Assassin's Decision

READ AND REVIEW Please review... i use your feedback to help determine the direction i take with my writing.

Rivers

The glass moved through his skin like a ship on a still pond. Cleanly. He let out a half sigh half hiss of relief and pain. The red fluid ran from his arteries like a great tsunami bursting through a dam. He was sorry for the blood he'd gotten on the carpet and bedspread. He'd apologized for it in the letter he'd written. He knew if he left the guest room and went into the bathroom and didn't come out that Miles and Lindsey would get suspicious. He examined his blood on the broken glass. The tiny cracks in the glass that had been caused when he'd broken it had captured the blood and as he watched the blood spreading through the cracks he was forcibly reminded of blood flowing through the veins and arteries of the body. The tiniest of the cracks were the capillaries trying to bring the oxygenated blood to something that didn't need it. Greg reflected on this deciding that he didn't need it either. He dug the glass shards deeper into his flesh reveling in the amount of blood that it pushed out. He'd thought that this would hurt more. He realized that the he was crying, he tilted his head to the ceiling resting in on the side of the bed. He was sitting still only in the towel leaning against the bed and he breathed in and out slowly reveling in the excitement caused by the lack of oxygen getting to his brain. He decided that this wasn't fast enough. He picked up the shard he'd been using, he hadn't even realized he had dropped it, and he dragged it across his chest and neck repeatedly until his hands were so slick with his own blood that he couldn't hold the glass it fell to the ground silently and he leaned back against the bed with a confident little smile on his face. Nobody could save him now, he was certain of that. He had locked the door and he knew that the kids thought him to be sleeping and they hadn't heard the glass break as Greg had put it under the sheets and pillow before smashing it with his knee. They wouldn't come to check on him for a while. He stared at the ceiling now swimming in his vision as his eyelids flickered like the image on a T.V. with bad reception. His blood covered chest fell up and down slower and slower until it hardly moved. Greg's eyes closed on the world and he smiled calmly prepared for the end. The letter rested on the nightstand beside the untaken pills. It was as neatly written as a shaky hand could write. When Gil read it later it felt like he'd been kicked in the teeth by somebody wearing size 12 combat boots.

_Hey guys, _

_First off I want to apologize for the mess I'm leaving behind. I have to take advantage of the time your not here though. Please make sure that Miles is safe and well cared for, he's gonna be mad at me for this and to be honest I'm not terribly happy about leaving him but I can't do this anymore. I need Sara, I can't live without her, I'm the reason that she's dead and I can't live with that. This is my fault all of it. I just don't have Grissom's kind of strength to pull through this. To be honest I don't care anymore, I just don't want to feel anything. I can't sleep because I always see her dying again and again and I know it's my fault. If I'd moved just a little bit faster I could have saved her, I know I could have. I can't escape that fact. It's driving me mad. I'm sorry that I've been so stupid and useless lately and I'm really sorry for causing so much trouble and worry. I have to do this. I hope you'll never have to understand why. _

_Sorry guys,_

_Greg_

The blood trickled out of his veins and his smile faded slightly as the darkness overtook him enveloping him like a soft silky sheet and he knew only nothingness.

AGAIN PLEASE REVIEW...


	5. Reflections

Author:Isabel Juno

Title: Reflections: chapter 5 of The Assassin's Decision

Disclaimers: the day i own them is the day the Pirates get to win the World Series! GO PIRATES!

PLEASE READ AND REVIEW!

Authors note: i have my buddies and muses to thank for helping me through writers block... mj0621, my friend Kathleen, my insane friend misty, and my other insane friend Byte366 thanks guys! hugs!

Reflections

Gil sat head in his hands and elbows on his knees as his stomach churned. Catherine sat next to him holding a tense conversation with Kathleen about something inane like the weather. Gil stood up suddenly.

"I'll be back in a bit." He gave no more information besides that and he strode out. He couldn't handle this. Cath called after his retreating back.

"Check on Greg and the kids ok?" Gil gave no sign if he'd heard. Kathleen gave Catherine a strange look.

"Is he okay?"

"He's worried." Catherine sighed, "So am I for that matter." Kathleen nodded understandingly. They had no idea what was going on in the surgery and it was driving her nuts. They'd been sitting out in front of it for about half an hour and she was losing it already. She and Catherine talked about anything and everything besides life and what was going on around them. Both discovered that they shared an interest in certain actors. Hugh Jackman was a favorite actor of both, Kathleen's reasoning was that his butt looked really good in leather and Catherine's was that she loved his eyes. Suddenly the doors at the end of the sterile hall burst open as several doctors and nurses bolted past them with a gurney that was covered in blood. At the same time Catherine's phone rang. Catherine almost ignored the ringing but for some reason the ring tone sounded pleading and urgent. She glanced at the caller id and seeing who it was flipped up the phone and answered breathlessly.

"Hello?"

"Cath are you still at the hospital?"

"Yes," She heard the worried tone in Gil's voice, "Why, what's wrong? I mean what else is wrong?" She amended remembering why she was there. Gil's voice sounded borderline panicky.

"Have you seen anybody rushing to the ER yet?" Catherine stood up.

"Yes just now why?" Her eyes darted towards the ER as her mind raced through the possible reasons Gil could be saying this. The questions began spilling out of her before Gil could get a word in edgewise.

"Is Lindsey ok? Did Miles get hurt? Did that mouse bite them? Is Greg ok?" On Gil's end he took a moment to mouth the word mouse in a questioning way before shaking his head and trying to calm Catherine down.

"Cath, Cath… CATH!" Catherine shut up as he yelled her name into the phone.

"Look, Lindsey and Miles are fine…." He left the rest unspoken. Cath knew.

"Greg…" Cath didn't say anything else. She was remembering the blood and suddenly felt very sick. She dropped the phone with a clatter and ran to the nearest bathroom. Gil shouted her name through the phone and Kathleen picked it up.

"She went to the bathroom… what's happened?" Her voice was full of concern. In her former life her empathy for people had caused her discomfort with some of her assignments but now it seemed to be one of her greatest strengths. She heard Gil sigh on the other end. It was a shaky sigh, one that conveyed wordlessly how stressed out and worried the enigmatic man was.

"Greg… he's hurt pretty damn badly. He should have arrived at the ER a few minutes ago." Kathleen felt the blood drain out of her already pale face. She remembered Greg from the wake and the funeral of Nick's friend Sara. Greg had crazy hair and she had had a feeling that he was normally a very cheerful and cheeky person instead of half dead looking like he had been then. He had seemed very somber and that looked strange on him. Her heart felt torn by the news. Gil was silent but Kathleen could still hear his torn breathing.

"I think he's here. I'm going to go check on Catherine."

"Thanks. I'm taking the kids over to Jim's house. Would you please tell Catherine that?" Gil sounded so dejected and pained that it made Kathleen want to comfort him, but she could think of nothing to say.

"Yes, ok. Are you going to come here after that?"

"Yes. Bye." The phone clicked as Gil hung up on his end. Kathleen snapped the phone shut and walked tentatively into the women's restroom. She could hear retching sounds from one of the stalls.  
"Catherine?" The toilet flushed and Catherine came out looking rather green.

"Hey." Said Kathleen. She couldn't imagine the worry and stress the older woman was dealing with. She'd never had anybody she had worried about like this until she'd met Nick. Catherine slumped against the tiled wall and slid to sit against it. She looked rather lost.

"Umm… Gil said that he was taking the kids to Jim's house and that then he will come here." Kathleen didn't know what else to say. She was out of her element. She never dealt with the aftermath of a death or an accident. Not since her parents anyway. She'd been to focused on revenge to mourn her parents. She mentally shook herself, she needed to adapt. Catherine looked up at her and nodded in a barely noticeable way.

"Good. I don't want the kids here and I know Greg wouldn't want Miles here for certain." Kathleen nodded in agreement. She may not know Greg but she did understand that no child should be in the hospital at a time like this. Kathleen went to go wait again and Catherine sat trying to compose herself. She didn't want to face the world again and hiding in the ladies room for eternity seemed to be a viable option. The door opened and Catherine continued to stare at her feet. The person's footsteps came closer and stopped in front of her. She recognized the toes of Gil's scuffed shoes.

"This is the women's washroom."

"Yeah… it is." She glanced up. He was unbelievable. Even with all that was going on and even though he was as much an emotional wreck as she was, he was still being a smartass!

"Your insane." Gil laughed weakly and sat down next to her with a groan.

"Smartass." She murmured. He smiled weakly.

"It's my only defense." She returned his smile weakly and leaned up against him. He slipped his arm around her and started humming softly. She stared at him as if he was nuts. He noticed her look and looked down at her.

"Are you humming Anarchy in the U.K.?" She asked incredulously. He smiled slightly.

"Yes, why?"

"I never took you for a Sex Pistols fan." She said amused. Gil smirked and shrugged in a manner that seemed to say "ih… what can ya do?"

"I like more than just classical music. It's a common misconception that I am a stuffy, bug obsessed, crossword solving, loser." She rolled her eyes, but she did give a strangled sort of giggle.

"Well I got you to laugh. That's one small step for me one giant leap for…" His voice trailed off as he tried to think of an appropriate word. He gave up with a shrug.

"Well no matter. Are you ready to go back out and face the world because I don't want to be responsible for some poor woman screaming when she enters the bathroom and sees a guy in here." Catherine nodded in a distracted manner. Gil's bad jokes were of no use to him now and he knew it. They left the washroom just as a nurse was walking by. She gave them an "I don't want to know." Look and kept walking. Gil shook his head hoping he never ran into that nurse again. He didn't feel like explaining why he'd been in there. They sat down in the hard red waiting room chairs and Gil held Catherine's hand while giving Kathleen a look that said "don't' ask". She took his hint and simply said.

"Nick is still in surgery and they've managed to slow Greg's bleeding and they've taken him in to surgery to repair the damage to his arteries. They think he'll be okay, but they said that they won't know for sure for a while." Gil nodded and Catherine smiled shakily.

"I'm going to go call Jim." Kathleen handed Catherine her phone back and Catherine took it a little way down the hall before dialing. Gil's phone went off and he excused himself, leaving Kathleen sitting by herself again. She sighed and picked an ancient copy of Vogue; she leafed through it casually but not really seeing it. She didn't want to think about anything, especially not what was going on in the rooms down the hall. After a few minutes of struggling not to think the door down the hall swung open with an ominous swish that was audible only to Kathleen. Gil was so intent on his phone he didn't notice the surgeon in his blood covered scrubs. Kathleen fought back the urge to retch. She knew this was Nick's surgeon. She had the cliché feeling like her heart was going to stop and like the world around her had narrowed down to her, the surgeon approaching her, and Nick, in the operating room. The weary looking surgeon stopped before and opened his mouth to speak.

Gil listened intently to the information Archie was feeding him. He nodded without noticing what he was doing.

"Thanks Arch."

"Sure thing boss." Gil heard the line click and the dial tone. He snapped the phone shut and looked around him. He saw a blood covered doctor speaking to Kathleen and a terrified feeling in his stomach intensified; his feet felt like lead as he walked over to them and listened in.

Catherine finished listening to Lindsey's summary of the movie she and Miles were being subjected to, only hearing about half and noting that the main words Lindsey had used to describe happened to be "sucks" and "piece of crap" and most often used "stupid". Miles had confirmed this by yelling in that background that movies that were old enough to have a young and skinny Frank Sinatra weren't movies that he was terribly interested in. Lindsey had at this time told her mother that she thought Miles was terribly strange and needed to get with the times. Catherine had smiled slightly at this and shook her head. Jim got on the phone and told Catherine to smack him if he ever thought of doing Gil a favor again. Catherine had just begun her retort as she heard Gil yell behind her. She wheeled around telling Jim she'd call him back and snapping the phone shut despite Jim's protests not to leave him alone with two kids again. Gil was jumping up in the air in an almost comical manner. She dashed over to them and slipped as she tried to skid to a halt. Gil caught her in mid-fall and pulled her into a bone crushing hug that lifted her off the floor as he spun them around excitedly.

"GIL PUT ME DOWN!" She yelled panicking. Gil laughed and put her down lightly still grinning ear to ear like a maniac. She then accused him of being completely mental and stared at him in bewildered wonder as he laughed at her accusation.

"Nick's gonna be fine!" He cut in as she began to yell at him. She felt a wave of relief was over her.

"O thank god! Any news on Greg? Why was that doctor covered in blood? Were you really just jumping up and down like an excited 3 year old on Christmas?" Gil put a hand over her mouth to shut her up.

"In order. No. It was a surgery not a checkup. And yes I was just jumping up and down like an excited 4 year old at Christmas." Catherine let out a sigh of relief and then looked sharply at him.

"I said 3 year old not 4 year old." She corrected. Gil shrugged.

"Well when I was 3 I didn't jump… I did a happy dance." She raised an eyebrow and opened her mouth. "And before you ask, no I won't do the happy dance." He added before she could ask. She closed her mouth and frowned. He smirked. Kathleen watched this interaction desperately trying not to laugh. The two noticed her smile and reddening face as she repressed her laughter. Gil raised his eyebrow and Catherine asked her if she was ok. Kathleen shook her head and held up her hand to fend off any questions. The surgeon muttered that one of them could go see Nick. Kathleen to eager advantage of the opportunity and told them one of them could switch with her in a little while. She bolted off down the hall still struggling to stifle her laughter and relief, leaving a very confused couple in her wake.

"I guess she's really relieved about Nick." Said Catherine mildly.

"I think she was laughing at us." Gil mused. Catherine looked at him curiously. She pushed back her questions. The whole fiasco with Nick and Greg and her eavesdropping on what Gil had told Greg, the look on Gil's face when she admitted she'd listened in. It all made her wonder if he still wanted there to be a "them". She decided to cross that bridge when the matter of Greg was settled. She knew that, if left to his own devices, Gil would not mention it and would simply build a bit of distance between them that would eventually kill their relationship. She couldn't let that happen. The two sat down silently and resumed the gut twisting waiting process that consisted of every ten minutes or so Gil standing up suddenly and pacing for a few minutes then cursing and sitting down again only to begin pacing again ten minutes later. Catherine for her part simply thought about all that was going on. She called and checked in on Lindsey and Miles occasionally. The few hours they sat seemed to take forever. After what felt like an eternity and a half of pacing and glancing up when they heard the ominous door swishing open only to continue their cycle; Greg's weary surgeon came in. His clothes weren't as bloodstained as Nick's surgeon's had been. Then again from what Gil had seen, most of Greg's blood was in Catherine's guest room.

He was at the part of his routine where he was sitting in the uncomfortable chair that was backing his backside fall asleep. His hands started shaking when he remembered what had happened. He had gone in to check in on Miles, Lindsey, and Greg. Miles and Lindsey were in the living room trying to teach a small mouse how to jump through a hoola hoop. Gil, while worried about the sanity of such an action, reasoned that they were in no imminent danger besides the possibility of their mouse circus failing. So he'd snuck up the stairs to check in on Greg. He'd tried to ease open the door to find that it wouldn't budge. He'd realized that Greg had locked it. He had no way to unlock it from this side. He began knocking, then banging on the door. By that time Miles and Lindsey had come up the stairs and were watching Gil slam his fist into the door. He'd turned to see them and both kids had seenthe fear on his face.

"Should I call mom?" Linds had asked. Gil had shaken his then bright red face.

"Just tell her why I've broken her door down later."

"But you haven't broken it down." Miles had pointed out.

"Not yet." Gil had said as he'd squared his shoulders and lifted his foot. He'd slammed his foot into the door right by the doorknob breaking the lock jamb. The door had burst open and the second Gil had seen the interior he swung around to keep the kids from seeing. He told Lindsey to call an ambulance, while Miles who had sensed something was very wrong tried to push past Gil who caught him and tried to push him back. Miles had seen Greg lying there on the floor with his blood pooling around him and Miles had screamed. It was an inarticulate scream. One born of pain and desperation as Gil had held the boy back from entering the room only to receive a small distraught fist to his solar plexus. Gil didn't loosen his hold on the boy but did let out a pained "oof" as all the breathe in his body was forced out. He scooped Miles up carrying him down the stairs ignoring the blows that the boy kept dealing him. His screaming became slightly more intelligible and Gil made a mental note to later impress upon Miles that calling Greg a "Goddammed rat bastard shit fuck" was not a good way to get something you wanted. He had sat the boy down on the faux marble counter. Silent tears had streamed their way down his face and he'd sniffled. Lindsey had been sitting silently at the table staring at them.

"Keep an eye on him ok?" Gil had instructed ignoring Miles mimicking him under his breath. Gil had stormed back up the stairs pausing only to grab a large towel. He crouched by Greg, his hands shaking, and he wrapped the towel tightly around Greg's wrists to staunch the blood flow.

"I called the ambulance and…." Lindsey's voice had trailed off into a strangled squeak. Gil had looked up all the blood draining from his face leaving it chalk white. Gil's body blocked Greg's from view but Lindsey had been able see all the blood on the carpet and bedspread. Her face had been frozen in horror and then something deep inside her took control. Her face had unfrozen and she'd become all business.

"What can I do to help?" She asked firmly. Gil had hesitated; he'd known Catherine would kill him if he let Lindsey see this.

"Get some more towels please and make sure Miles stays in the kitchen." She had nodded and hurried for the towels. She'd come back with a stack of them.

"Leave them by the door. Your mother will kill me for letting you see this much." Gil was grateful for Lindsey's help but he'd had no intention of scarring the child for life.

"I can tell this much, Greg is bleeding badly. Your not going to be able to stop the bleed with just towels either. I'm going to get some rope belts too tie the towels off with. More pressure will be applied to the wound." Gil had stared after her, his mouth had hung open out of shock at the girl's knowledge and calmness. Gil, himself, had felt slightly shaky and was still very frightened. It was an emotion that he found himself growing more and more used to feeling. He didn't like that.

Catherine's voice brought Gil out of his reverie.

"So the next few hours in recovery will tell us for sure?" She said. Gil focused his attention on his current surroundings. The surgeon nodded. He wore glasses and his glasses had a blood smudge on them, the sight of which, made Gil's stomach churn.

"Everything is looking pretty good for now though. Greg's vitals have stabilized. We're still giving him transfusions and we will probably have to continue to give him transfusions for a few weeks. We have him restrained so he can't hurt himself again." Gil looked sharply at the man and opened his mouth to ask how he'd known that Greg had hurt himself. The surgeon headed Gil off seeing Gil's question forming.

"I've seen a lot of attempted suicides Mr. ……" his voice trailed off unsure.

"Grissom." Supplied Gil. The surgeon nodded.

"Greg is unconscious now, but you and Mrs. Grissom can go in to see him if you'd like the nurse up front can direct you to his room." Before either Catherine or Gil could correct the man and say that they weren't married he scurried off down the hall as his beeper started shrieking at him. Catherine leaned her head back against the wall breathing out a sigh of relief. Gil had mixed feelings about that. One the one hand it reminded him of how beautiful she was even when she was stressed out and on the other hand it reminded him of how conflicted he was about her eavesdropping on what he'd told Greg. He shoved these emotions into the box in the back of his mind where he put the stuff he couldn't handle at the moment. He knew one day the box, that was already straining against is confines, would burst and destroy him along with it. He sighed.

"Shall we?" He asked mildly. Catherine opened her eyes slowly and turned her head lethargically towards him nodding slightly, which caused her hair to rub up against the wall making it stick to the wall on account of static electricity. Gil smiled gently and crossed his arms across his chest leaning against the wall. She noticed his look and tried to mask her self-conscious feelings she got whenever he looked at her with those deep ocean blue eyes.

"What?"

"Shall we go see Greg?"

"No I heard that and yes we should but what do you mean by looking at me like that?" Gil smiled at Catherine's choice of wording. Catherine was speaking and thinking at the same time. It was quite amusing.

"First off, I love your choice of words, and two, your hair is kind of staticky." Catherine gave Gil a playful shove and Gil smirked at her as she tried to smooth her hair down. She then stalked off towards the receptionist's desk with her hair standing up even worse than before. Gil thought her hair resembled little wispy antennae and the thought made his smirk turn into a full-blown grin. Catherine got the room number and walked back to Gil grabbing him by the shirt and dragging him along. She knew her hair was still standing up and she knew that's why Gil was grinning like an idiot. She briefly considered blackmailing Gil to get him back for this smirking, which she knew wasn't going away any time soon. She thought about and the only thing she could think of that would embarrass Gil would be the fact he had a habit of singing Cindy Lauper songs in the shower. Personally she didn't think there was anything funnier than Gil singing Girls Just Want to Have Fun. She'd recorded it at one point and still hadn't told Gil about it. She decided against tormenting Gil, under the current circumstances she didn't really want to piss Gil off any more than she already had. Gil followed her unquestioningly, his mind wandering, drawn back to the box in his mind. The one he hid everything difficult inside of. He wanted to just destroy it. He knew that that wasn't possible but it didn't stop him wanting to. He felt horribly betrayed by Catherine listening in. He knew that he shouldn't, she'd just wanted to make sure everything was ok but it didn't stop the anger that was festering in the box. They entered Greg's room quietly and Gil pushed his attention outside of his mind. Greg looked pretty bad. His entire chest had been tightly bandaged as had his wrists and he was restrained and hooked up to an IV and a blood drip. He looked sickly gray under the fluorescent lights and his breathing sounded strange. Gil felt his stomach churning threatening to send the chicken and rice he'd had for dinner up to meet his mouth again. He noticed that Greg had stitches on his face; Gil couldn't remember any head injuries on Greg, but there had been so much blood. Gil fought away the memory as his legs started shaking. Catherine felt ill to see Greg hooked up to the various machines and drips and she felt horror in seeing all the bandages. She glanced at Gil who looked a horrible ashen grey she felt sure had nothing to do with the lighting. He looked lost and rather ill. She guided him over to a seat and sat next to him, leaning into him a little bit. His hand found hers and she squeezed his gently. His thumb moved back and forth over her knuckles rhythmically as they sat there watching Greg for any signs he was awake. There were no signs. Gil let his mind wander again as time passed by. He thought about how bad things had gotten between him and Liz before she'd been killed. He'd blamed himself for the longest time. He wasn't going to tell Greg that. He didn't want to tell Cath either, but his and Liz's problems stemmed mostly from the fact that they'd kept things from each other. He'd never told anyone that he and Liz had been about to break up with each other when they'd found out she was pregnant. For Gil, who remembered how hard it had been to grow up pretty much without a dad, the idea of not being there for his baby had been a crushing one. The baby was the reason he and Liz stayed together. Rose had kept him and Liz together simply by existing. Gil had often wondered what would have happened if Liz hadn't gotten pregnant or if he'd been with Liz the day she was killed or if Rose had lived. He didn't know and it still killed him to think of those memories. He'd spent years burying them away only to have Sara's death drag it all up to the surface. Catherine looked at Gil and sighed.

"Greg's not going to be waking up anytime soon I don't think. We need to talk. I know you don't want to, especially not here, but we need to talk. You're mad at me. I know that. I know you deserve to be mad. I know that I deserve for you never to trust me again but I have to try. I can't pretend I understand the kind of pain that you must feel to talk about Liz and Rose but you told Greg who annoys the hell out of you and you didn't tell me. I'm your best friend and more and you didn't ever tell me. I understand the circumstances are different but…" Gil silenced her speech with a look. There was no malice or anger in it. It was simply a blank look. Gil took a deep breath and began to speak in a shaky sort of voice.

"Your right. I am mad, I'm furious that you listened in. I understand why you did but it doesn't stop me from being angry. I told Greg for a reason. To be honest when I talked to Greg when he was in the shower, when I listened to his responses I knew exactly where he was coming from. I've been there. When Liz and Rose died I sat in my shower contemplating suicide for weeks. When I finally did try to commit suicide it was in much the same way Greg did. I slit my wrists. I sat in my shower and slit my wrists with a straight razor and to be honest I didn't really feel the pain. For me the pain let me feel physically what I'd been feeling emotionally. The pain let me know I was dying and it let me focus on the end of life and the hope of seeing Rose and Liz again. I've been where Greg is. I know exactly what he was feeling and I know exactly how angry and desperate he's going to feel when he wakes up. He will eventually understand, but its gonna take a long time. I know how Greg feels because when I found him in the guest room bleeding like that it was like when I tried to off myself. When I talked to him in the bathroom it was like listening to myself and when I looked in his eyes when we took the knife from him it was like looking in a mirror. It was like seeing my own 25-year-old self, looking back at me with the same pain and anger I felt and still feel. To talk about this, for me is like letting out a crushing wave from behind a dam that I've carefully built. Its like letting the monster out of the closet and I'm not sure I can or would want to stuff it back in." He stopped, frowning at a speck on the floor as if it had offended him by stubbornly sticking to the floor. He had been unable to stop the torrent of words once he'd begun and he still had many left to say. He didn't want to fight with Catherine. He didn't want to relive the nightmares of the past. But then… since when did Gil Grissom get his way? Catherine stared at him open mouthed. She had never been so stunned by anything Gil had done as what she'd learned about him in this one day. She felt a flare of anger. She knew that it wasn't reasonable, but it didn't change the fact she felt it.

"I've always told you everything." She said quietly. Gil looked at her sharply. His mouth fell open and a strangled sort of noise came out. He had no idea what to say to that. It was true and he knew it. He knew almost everything about her. He knew all the big stuff that had shaped her life and he hadn't told her much of the stuff that had shaped him into the withdrawn and enigmatic man he was. Catherine's eyes stared deep into his as if drilling their way into his mind. She frowned and continued.

"You know everything about me. How much do I really know about you?" Her words cut him like sword. He withdrew his hand from hers and stared determinedly at Greg's cardiograph. Catherine stared at him.

"Maybe your right." Gil said still staring at the cardiograph.

"What?" Catherine was taken aback. Gil continued staring at the cardiograph as if if he blinked it would run away. He swallowed hard.

"Maybe you don't really know me. I'm scared to let people know who I am. Every time I do I end hurting others or getting hurt by them." Catherine stared at Gil incredulously.

"You're unbelievable!" Gil blinked at her.

"I thought I was at least reasonably believable." He retorted feeling his face flush. She glared at him. He still wasn't looking at her. She felt anger festering in the pit of her stomach. He was unbelievable! How could he act like this? Granted she shouldn't have listened in but this went beyond that. Gil felt his anger rising. He hated to fight with Catherine but she was leaving him little choice. He couldn't drop it; she'd bring it back up again and again. He knew Catherine knew him better than anybody else but she didn't seem to think so.

"I know this much about you Gil. You hide away from the world because you're afraid of getting hurt. You act like you don't care because you think if you care that you'll get hurt. You hide in your hermetically sealed condo, doing genius level crosswords, playing with your tarantula Harry, and hiding from the world. You finally admit you have feelings for me and then the first time that something turns into a fight you resort to sarcasm and staring daggers at a speck on the floor because your scared! You are the biggest coward I know. You're so afraid of emotional pain that you hide from everything. The good and the bad." Catherine stopped breathing heavily. Gil continued staring at the cardiograph, choosing his words carefully and struggling to stay calm.

"Townhouse not condo, advanced crosswords not genius, and his name is Henry the 8th not Harry. The rest is pretty damn accurate though, except I'm not staring at the speck on the floor, I'm staring at the cardiograph." A groan from the bed cut off anything else that might have been said as Greg let out an irritated groan.

"Will you two knock it off? You sound like my parents." Gil actually smiled.

"How do you feel Greg?" He asked, his voice soft. Greg grumbled.

"I've been better and I feel guilty as all hell." Greg's voice was gruff and uncharacteristically quiet.

"Don't feel guilty." Said Gil simply. He had so much more to say but he couldn't find the words. Catherine went over and needlessly brushed Greg's hair back with her hand.

"Don't feel guilty," she told him, "The past can't be changed, look toward the future instead." Those words burned themselves into Gil's mind. Later when they left Greg to sleep, still with an icy silence between them, and Gil went home to his dark and, for the first time, oppressive townhouse Catherine's words came back to him. Taunting him with ideas and possibilities. He turned up Handle's Messiah very loud and tried to forget everything. It didn't work. He knew he had to do something. He couldn't loose Catherine. He cared too much about her. She may not know how well she knew him but he knew she knew him better than anyone else. He lay on his old brown leather couch listening to Halleluiah and wondering what to do.

Catherine sat at home trying to bury away her feelings for Gil and about their fight, which seemed both valid and stupid. She knew she would regret it later, but now she felt justified. Catherine knew that, as much as she hated and feared the idea of losing Gil, their relationship couldn't survive if they didn't talk. She felt torn between her fear of losing Gil now and losing him later. She felt certain that the only person who could solve this was the one person who wouldn't address it. Still full of turmoil, Catherine crawled into her bed, which felt terribly empty without Gil. It scared her how used to him being there she'd gotten. Now she lay all alone and feeling very alone; silent tears began to trek down her cheeks and into her soft pillows.

Read and Review please

TBC


	6. Hours into Minutes

Author: Isabel Juno

Story: The Assassin's Decision

Disclaimers and such in previous chapters

Authors Notes: see last chapter...

READ AND REVIEW!

Hours into minutes

Nick pulled himself into wakefulness groggily. His entire body hurt and he had no idea where he was. His nostrils detected the strong scent of antibacterial cleaners and astringents and his skin was wrapped in gauze bandages. He lay in a bed with overly starched pristine white sheets. He opened his eyes slowly, not wanting to acknowledge existence. God, how he hated anesthesia. Kathleen was sitting in a chair by his bed reading a copy of Gulliver's Travels. She glanced up at him and smiled warmly.

"Welcome back to the world of the living."

"Ugh… thanks. How long have I been out of it?" he asked hoarsely. She grabbed a glass of water from his bedside table and helped him drink.

"About a week. I read all the magazines here so Gil brought me a few books of his to read, Catherine brought me some clothes, and Jim brought me some real food." She grinned at him as his attention had sharpened when she said "real food".

"Want some?" She asked grinning evilly. He grinned back.

"Sure the doctors won't kill me for it?" She pretended to think about it.

"Well actually it's probably not a good idea. The doctors said that your stomach should be fine. But to be honest I think your gonna be on a strictly soup, applesauce, and Jell-o diet for a while." She said seriously. She almost burst out laughing at Nick's crestfallen look. He began bemoaning the injustice of hospital food and dictator doctors, at which point Kathleen burst out laughing. He looked at her, startled.

"What? What's so funny?" He asked bewildered. Kathleen continued to laugh at the confused texan. She shook her head.

"Nothing. Just the look on your face when I told you what your diets probably going to be for the next week."

"WEEK!" That was too much for poor Nick, who fell back on his pillows practically cursing doctors. He fell silent after a few minutes, seemingly relenting to his inevitable fate. Kathleen smiled and placed her bookmark carefully in the book, time for Gulliver and the giants later. She sat still waiting for Nick to ask what she knew he was dying to ask. A few minutes later he inquired.

"So did they find the guy yet?" His voice was flat and emotionless but Kathleen watched his eyes moisten slightly and dart around nervously as he faced the ceiling.

"They haven't found him yet but they're looking." She knew all they would find of David Velcher would be his mangled body identifiable only by his dental records and they would find a confession in David's own hand telling them that he'd been the one who attacked Nick and ordered the assassination of over 209 people in the last 20 years. Kathleen had always known how to forge Velcher's writing. She'd practiced it just in case, and she knew what to say. She had written down the names and year of each assassination she'd either committed or known about. She hadn't killed as many as some of the others Velcher "owned" as he put it. She was the one Velcher had sent on the most dangerous assignments because she was the best and now she was in a world where she had no real marketable skills. It scared her. Nick sat thinking.

"They're not gonna find him are they?" He asked calmly. The first thing he'd done the first time he'd woken up was to demand a sketch artist and he'd described Velcher and now the police were out looking for a man who aside from some skin tissue stuck under Nick's nails and in his teeth where Velcher had torn his knuckles punching Nick in the mouth the police had only a sketch. Kathleen hoped that Robins, the coroner, would run a DNA check through on Velcher and notice it was the same DNA as Nick's attacker. Then all the pieces would fall into place. Nick stared glumly at the wall and Kathleen felt an overpowering urge to hug him, which she acted upon carefully as not to hurt him. He looked in a surprised way at her and hugged her back. He inhaled her scent, one of lilac and lavender, and ran his fingers through her beautiful black hair. He never wanted the moment to end but of course it did as Kathleen let go calling out a greeting to Grissom, who stood in the doorway looking like he was about to back out of the room and leave the two alone. Nick was overjoyed.

"Griss!" He called out cheerfully. Grissom smiled and strode in and gave Nick a rather awkward hug. Nick noticed that Grissom smelled like bourbon and wondered if Grissom had been drinking a lot.

"How are you feeling Nick?" Grissom asked his eyes betraying his concern far more than his words. Nick smiled easily.

"Pretty good. What about you?" He inquired curiously. He saw a flash of emotion go across Grissom's normally stoic features. It disappeared as quickly as it had come and Grissom just nodded sullenly. Kathleen sensed the tension emanating from Grissom and hurriedly changed the subject. She picked the first thing that came to mind.

"So have they decided to let Greg out today?" Nick's head whipped towards her panic apparent on his face.

"What?" He turned to look at Grissom. "What? Is Greg here? Is he ok? What's happened?" Grissom frowned slightly and Kathleen kicked herself, bad choice of subject.

"Nick, shut up for a minute and let me explain." Said Grissom evenly. He looked very tired all of the sudden.

"Greg tried to commit suicide. He's fine though; we stopped him in time. He has undergone psychiatric evaluation and he'll be in therapy for a while. He will be fine." Gil assured Nick.

"They're even going to let him continue taking care of Miles." Proffered Kathleen. Nick looked greatly relieved and began muttering irritably to nobody in particular.

"Can't even have stomach hemorrhaging and undergo surgery without all hell breaking loose." Gil and Kathleen smiled at each other. Nick was going to be fine. Gil gave Kathleen a look that told her he needed to speak with her alone. Kathleen told Nick she was going to go get some coffee and Gil told Nick he had to check in on Jim and the lab to see if Ecklie had tried getting in again.

"He doesn't seem to get the fact he's been canned. Even security doesn't seem to help. We've even threatened to arrest him the next time we catch him in the lab." Gil grinned as his mind conjured up an image of Conrad Ecklie rotting in jail. It was one of his fondest daydreams. Nick chuckled, picturing much the same thing that Grissom was. Kathleen smirked at the two men who were lost in their daydreams. Grissom followed her out of Nick's room, his eyes still slightly glazed over in a daydream state.

"What did you want to talk about?" she asked heading down towards the cafeteria. Now that she thought about it, coffee sounded really good or maybe a nice cappuccino. Gil snapped out of his daydream and cleared his throat. He looked slightly embarrassed.

"Umm… well your probably going to be mad for this… but I did a background check on you. I wanted to know who you were and you're not terribly forthcoming about it. I know who you are. I know who you used to be. And also we found Velcher." Kathleen just stared at him feeling the blood draining out of her face and struggling to pull herself together. He didn't give her a chance.

"I also know who that makes Miles. I know that situations you've dealt with are very far from ideal and I know you've done what you've had to too survive. I can't honestly say I wouldn't have done the same thing. I'm not going to arrest you because I can't prove you've done anything and also because I don't want to. You saved Nick's life. Maybe not directly but you've still saved him. I do have many questions though. I'm hoping you'll come clean with the answers over coffee with Jim and I." Gil had pushed the elevator button and stepped inside waiting for her. She forced her legs into motion reluctantly. She watched him push the button for the cafeteria level. He waited for her response. She carefully considered what to say.

"I'm not sure how much I can tell you to be honest. I'll do my best as long as you promise not to tell anybody and why the hell does Jim know?"

"He helped me uncover your past." Gil stated simply, as the elevator started down. Kathleen nodded accepting his answer.

"And, we won't tell… anybody unless we have to." The last bit was added after a moments pause. It caused Kathleen's head to turn so sharply towards him that her neck cricked. She nodded after a moments thought. It was only fair. The elevator pinged as it landed on the correct floor. The two walked silently out of the elevator and down the almost absurdly brightly lit hall. The short hall opened out into a massive room that encompassed the whole floor, with floor to ceiling windows and an enormous beige carpet and many white round tables and 4 chairs to each table. Few patients, families, doctors, and nurses sat around at them or stood at the windows looking out at the vastness of Las Vegas. Gil still puzzled over why they'd brought Nick here. This was terribly far from the strip, about five or six miles. The doctor had told him that Nick had requested to be brought here and that the EMT's had only followed the patient's requests. He glanced around the room spying Jim sipping coffee out a white styrofoam cup in the corner. Good, thought Gil, less chance of being over heard. He led Kathleen over to the table and sat down. She followed suit resignedly and stared out the window into the early morning light. Unbelievably there was a light fog over the city that hadn't burned up yet. The lights of the city reflected inside the fog to create an eerily beautiful effect. She tore her eyes from the scene as Jim began to question her in an uncustomarily gentle tone.

"So who exactly is Miles?" Jim inquired. Kathleen turned to fix Jim with a stern stare.

"I can't tell you much about him because I don't know for sure if he is who I think he is. But if I'm correct then Miles is the son of David Velcher and a woman who lived here in Vegas many years ago. I know she died about 4 years ago and that she was terrified that Velcher would find out that she was with child. Velcher had made it clear to her that she was to be on birth control, and she told me he wore protection every time just to be sure. She told me that she had taken the pills and somehow had still gotten pregnant. A one in a million chance and it happened to the one woman who would be killed for it. She came to me, begging me to help her. She knew if anybody could keep Velcher from killing her, it would be me. So I decided to help her. The poor woman was desperate and she didn't want to give up the child. I found her a safe harbor in Colorado with a friend of mine. She was then given a new identity and taken to a quiet town in Maine. The last I heard from her was when Miles was 3. She said that she'd seen some strange men around her town and I advised her to move. She did and that was the last I heard from her. I found out two years later she died and her son was missing. I assumed that despite my efforts David Velcher had found her and killed her and her son. Her name was Andrea Lyon." Kathleen paused and then added.

"I have an old picture of her and Miles." Gil raised an eyebrow and Kathleen opened her purple purse and pulled out a wallet and withdrew from it, a faded and worn old picture. Gil took it and examined it closely. It depicted a small boy with short crew cut brown hair wearing clean crisp khakis, a neatly pressed dark green dress shirt, plain black tie, dress shoes, and a yarmulke sitting next to a very pretty young woman. She had short straight black hair that stood up in a spiky sort of style with hazel eyes and a warm smile that lit up her face. She wore a simple flowery sundress and a light purple silk scarf with just enough flare to indicate that she was a city girl. Gil recognized a much younger Miles and assumed the young woman next to him was his mother, Andrea. He studied the background, the small family stood on the beach on the rocky coast of Maine. They stood on a huge boulder that protruded out into the ocean. The surf smashed up against some smaller rocks in the background and a seagull was caught in time forever in mid-flap with a small crab in its beak. It was a cloudy day and the boy and his mother looked happy despite the weather. Gil felt a pang of sadness for Miles and he handed the picture to Jim before looking at Kathleen. Her eyes reflected what he felt. How could anyone destroy such a tiny happy family?

"Miles can't be any older than 3 in that picture." Gil said, surprised to find his voice rough with emotion. Kathleen nodded.

"That's how old he was when the picture was taken." She informed him.

"So do you know what Miles' full name is?" Jim asked still not looking up from the picture. Kathleen nodded.

"Miles Ezekiel Lyon." She said softly, as if saying it would herald somebody screaming and diving through the window into the street below. Gil absorbed this thoughtfully.

"What's his birthday?" asked Gil. Kathleen blinked at him.

"October 12." She told him. Gil nodded and sighed.

"Do you have any idea where Miles went after his mother died?" Asked Jim, glancing up from the photo.

"No, I never actually saw Miles until he showed up here and I didn't know who he was at first. It was when he started cracking the same bad jokes his mother used to make that I realized why he looked familiar." The three lounged silently every once in a while sipping their coffee. After a while Jim spoke up.

"So should we tell Greg? Or confront Miles?" Gil frowned and cocked his head to the side thinking hard.

"No…" he said slowly, "I think that… Miles will talk about his past when he's ready too and if we push him he'll withdraw or worse. I'm going to help Greg push for custody of Miles and Greg gets out of therapy." Kathleen smiled.

"I think Miles would love that." They all knew Miles came in and visited Greg everyday. They played games and sang badly to Pink Floyd and Iron Maiden music. This tormented the nurses, doctors, and patients with in a fifty-foot radius of Greg's room. Greg underwent many psychiatric and physical evaluations and after two more weeks of torment was deemed to be mentally and physically fit.

He was released the following Monday and was given his therapy schedule. Nick was due to be released after the watch on his stomach for more bleeding ended. He had been in the hospital for nearly three and a half weeks and he was getting antsy. Nick, Greg, Miles, and Kathleen were constantly making mock plans to take over the hospital. They had even made a map of the hospital and used meter sticks to point out where there "forces" (tiny soaps) would be stationed during the takeover. Gil would often point out spots where they would be over run by screaming infants or geriatric patients and they would change their strategies. Nobody thought to ask how Gil knew about strategy or how he knew the hospital so well. Gil wasn't about to tell them he'd been wandering around the hospital when he wasn't at the lab, crime scene, or at the mobster trials taking place.

He'd told Nick that the guy whom had hurt him had been found murdered in his hotel room and that nobody was really making an effort to find his killer. Nick had accepted the news in a relieved manner. He told Gil that he simply didn't want to have to testify. Gil had smirked and told Nick about how much he hated testifying. How it made him feel like he had when he was a kid who was caught not paying attention in Sunday school and was being forced to say an our father and hail Mary in front of the entire church. He added that he had had to do that several times, one time for reading Origin of Species during the reading of Genesis. Greg who had been in the room at the time had laughed so hard that he'd fallen out of his chair and started choking for no real reason except he was laughing to hard.

Gil was still trying to think of a way to make everything right with Catherine and he'd made his decision and his plan. He'd brought Nick and Kathleen in on it as well as Greg and Miles. Jim had to be left out of the loop because, as was discovered when they tried to throw a surprise birthday party for Lindsey and Jim had accidentally mentioned it to her, Jim could not keep a secret. Everything was set up and everybody knew their part. Miles and Greg kept Lindsey from getting into trouble and also provided as babysitting so Catherine didn't have to worry about it at all. Warrick would hold fort at the trial and at the lab and Jim was scheduled to work anyway. The lab had pretty much been shut down on graveshift. Day shift took most cases, as did swing shift. Graveshift was pretty much limited to paperwork and processing evidence at the moment. After almost another week Gil was ready to put his plan into action. It had been a full month since his fight with Catherine and now he was going to make it right, and get Kathleen and Nick into an exclusive restaurant.

TBC

PLEASE REVIEW!


	7. Risks

Author: Isabel Juno 

Story: The Assassin's Decision

Disclaimers: I don't own CSI or the songs i've used... if i did i'd be rich... and i'd buy a duck

Authors Notes and such: PLEASE READ AND REVIEW!

Risks 

Catherine sighed as she found the badly written note on her counter.

It read:

Look Cath,

You say you don't know me. You say I don't give a damn. Well I have this much to say. If you're willing to try and resolve all this and to repair our relationship then meet me at the address on the back of this paper. I have something to ask you there. I have one question for you and after you answer that question you can ask any and every question you want to of me. Or if you don't want to talk to me ever again after that then so be it. But I want to ask you that question and I want to ask you there.

-Gil

Catherine found herself smiling at the little smiley Gil had written next to his name. She read the instructions on the back of the note which were followed by a request that she wear that dark blue dress she'd worn to the Twizzlers with him. She had slipped it on without a second thought as well as a black silks scarf around her shoulders. She did her hair up so that she had thin slightly curled bit hanging down in front of her ears and the rest of her hair done up in and elaborate way on top of her head. She knew if Gil suggested this dress that it was someplace very nice, Gil tended to be underdressed on most occasions. Lindsey raised an eyebrow at her mother and her choice of clothing.

"Going on a hot date?" Lindsey inquired with a smug look. Miles smirked.

"She is if Gil is considered a hot date!" both Willows looked at Miles who immediately looked abashed.

"How'd you know I'm going out with Gil?" asked Catherine, stunned. The two kids rolled their eyes.

"Better question," said Miles, "What is forbidden to eat while your gone?" Catherine laughed, the boy's look conveyed that this was a serious question but the look of incredulity on Lindsey's face told her both had known and were simply playing a game with Catherine.

"I'm going to go meet Gil now. Miles, no sugar for you ok? Lindsey… stay out of the frozen yogurt." With that Catherine stepped out the door and off to her Denali. She caught Miles asking why Lindsey couldn't have frozen yogurt and Lindsey muttering in an embarrassed way that last time she had it she ate too much and puked. Catherine made a face to herself at the memory. She followed the shakily written instructions and found herself rereading them several times as she arrived at her destination.

"Couldn't be." She muttered to herself, her eyebrows furrowing, "How could Gil get reservations at Elezar Ceasers?"

"He pulled some strings with the manager who is a friend of his." Catherine jumped and looked at the owner of the voice. The texan grinned at her cheekily.

"C'mon. You and Grissom have a table in the back." Catherine found herself jibbering slightly as she got out of the Denali and handed her keys to the valet. She tried to get her questions in order but Nick cut her off.

"Grissom got Kathleen and I a table as a sort of "yay your out of the hospital and you have a girlfriend so I'll get you a private booth at the cities up and coming premiere restaurant to celebrate!" and he got you two one as well. I don't think I've ever seen him this nervous." Nick mused on the last part.

"Why do you say he's nervous?" Catherine asked sharply. Nick grinned.

"Cause I've never seen anybody who wasn't nervous break a water glass by grippin it too hard." Catherine could picture the surprised look Gil would have had on his face when the glass broke. She found herself wondering if he was ok.

"Is he ok?"

"Well if he isn't he doesn't seem to be about to admit it."

"Very helpful Nick." Catherine told him dryly. He grinned sheepishly and they stepped into the exclusive restaurant. Catherine felt her jaw drop in awe of the décor.

The woodwork adorning the walls was exquisite and most definitely hand done. The paintings and frescoes on the ceilings were far overhead and were copies of great paintings, mostly Picasso's and abstract works by artists Catherine didn't recognize. The light fixtures sat on the floor and were made of a spun glass that looked delicate and the refracted the light within onto the walls giving the entire restaurant lobby the feel of a dancing hall. The hardwood floors were an intricate design of a dark redwood and a rich hazel. The small light stands along the wall were made of a dark wood that Catherine didn't recognize but that looked perfectly carved for this lobby. She felt a gentle hand close her mouth and she looked down from the ceiling where she'd been examining a particularly intricate fresco. Gil smiled gently at her.

"Well at least for once I'm not the one getting my mouth shut." He said with a glint of mischief in his eyes. She rolled her eyes at him and turned to ask Nick if he could believe Gil. Nick was already halfway to his table where she could see Kathleen wearing a gorgeous dark rich purple Chinese Tang jacket and tight boot cut black dress pants along with apt. 9 dress sandals. She looked incredible and Catherine made up her mind to ask the woman where she got her shirts. Gil lead her up an ornate wooden staircase and out onto a sort of tier with a soft mat floor that was stable enough for heels but soft enough for bare feet. The walls were no existent, the roof was held up with carved wooden poles that complemented the floor rather well. There were only four tables in the room, one in each corner and they were separated by a frosted glass wall with delicate designs engraved in it. Gil guided her over to on of the tables that had a view of the desert. The restaurant was on the edge of Vegas near a park and they had a great view of the fountain in the center of the park. The cherry trees in the park were blossoming giving the park a cheerier atmosphere than normal and giving the couple watching it a sense of serenity. The table, itself, was a simple two-person table made of ornately welded black steel. The chairs were comfortable mahogany armchairs with soft black cushions. There was a light blue freesia scented candle in the center of the small table, which was bordered by salt, pepper, and parmesan shakers. There was a small metal balcony that ran along the outside of the tier and it was scattered with comfortable Adirondack chairs and small plants. There were plants hanging off of the overhang above the balcony and their light floral scent wafted around the couple. Catherine examined Gil calmly. He wore a soft black dress shirt and black dress pants. His beard was neatly trimmed and his hair looked like his brush had fought a loosing battle with it. Overall he looked incredibly handsome and when he noticed her examining him crucially he smiled in that way that made her stomach do an excited little flip. Gil felt his stomach give a little nervous twitch as she returned his smile. They talked about meaningless things for a while during the meal, Gil was afraid to get to the reason he'd asked her to come here. There was a light tune drifting out of concealed speakers. A tune both of them knew. Catherine looked at Gil's surprised face and caught the mischievous glint in his eye as it formed. He began to move a little bit to the music. She laughed and shook her head as she caught his intent. She had found out about six and a half weeks ago that Gil not only could dance but also liked to dance. Gil proffered his hand and still shaking her head she took it. They stood up and moved out onto the balcony. Gil slipped his arms around her waist and pulled her closer to him. Catherine hooked her own arms around his neck and rested her head on his chest, which moved up and down rhythmically as Frank Sinatra continued to sing. Gil began humming to it and she smiled into his chest almost completely content in the moment. Gil didn't notice he was humming but the words to the song ran through his mind he didn't even notice as he began to sing.

"And that laugh that wrinkles your nose,  
It touches my foolish heart.

Lovely ... never, ever change.  
Keep that breathless charm.  
Won't you please arrange it?  
'Cause I love you ... just the way you look tonight."

Catherine smiled into his chest loving how she could feel the vibrations caused by his singing reverberating through his chest. She loved how his voice was soft and strong. It hit her like a ton of bricks how natural and wonderful it felt to be held close to him and to dancing with him. This wasn't a moment either of them wanted to end and as the song ended and another started up the kept dancing slowly to Delicate by Damien Rice. Gil hummed to this one too but didn't know the words well enough to sing. Catherine did though and she did sing. Softly but it was singing nonetheless.

"So why do you fill my sorrow  
with the words you've borrowed  
from the only place you've know  
And why do you sing Hallelujah  
If it means nothing to you  
why do you sing with me at all?"

Gil sighed and pulled her even closer to him. His beard brushed against her neck as the dancing turned more into them hugging and sort of swaying with the music. Neither wanted to let go because both were afraid of the moment being lost. As the Delicate ended and Day-O by Harry Belafonte started they simply stood still for a moment holding each other, both knowing the moment was over and both struggling to hold on to it. Finally they let their arms fall and Catherine went over to the railing and stared out at the park. It was completely deserted now and the fountain stayed on for nobody in particular but she felt almost as if it symbolized her. She felt Gil's hand gently wipe away the tears before they could roll down her face. She looked up at him and saw his brows knitted in concern and the worry in his eyes. She wondered if he knew that he was the reason she was crying, she had a feeling he did.

Gil wanted to kick himself for this. He had known that a dinner in a nice restaurant wouldn't fix everything and he knew if he wanted to make his plan work he had to ask now… now or never. He opened his mouth to speak but she cut him off. Wiping the tears away she tried to pull herself together as she pushed her hair back.

"So, what did you want to ask me?" Her voice was thick with pain and sorrow. Gil knew she was trying to hide from the pain just like he had for years and he knew he had to save her from herself. He cupped her cheek with his hand noticing how her smaller hand went to press his hand deeper into her cheek and how her eyes closed as she leaned into the palm of his hand.

"You say you don't know me." He started nervously, "You say I don't give a damn. You think that I just want to hide for the rest of my life with my genius crosswords and bugs."

"Advanced crosswords." She muttered out of habit of hearing herself corrected. The two of them gave each other shy smiles and Gil felt his palms grow sweatier. He had jammed both of his hands into his pockets and was watching her trying to screw up the courage for what he had to say next. She turned to face the railing again looking out on the fountain. Gil took a deep breath and felt slightly lightheaded and weak-kneed as he moved behind her and slipped his arm around her trim waist as he rested his forehead in the nape of her neck. She relaxed into him and felt his other arm slip around her waist. Gil slipped the round navy blue box into her hand before entwining his hands around her. She stiffened as she felt the round box slip into her grasp.

"Open it." Gil whispered into her ear, his breath tickling her neck. She opened it and felt almost as if her heart stopped. It was a beautiful silver ring with a diamond in the center and two sapphires on either side. The perfect marquise cut smoky rose-colored diamond had a simple swirling emerald design laid in to it. She stared at it her mouth open and she noticed the little handwritten card accompanying it in the box that read simply "I love you" it was Gil's handwriting and she felt her anger at him get lost in a wave of other emotions: shock, joy, fear, disbelief, and love. Gil held his breathe in unconsciously as she opened the box and he waited for her to turn in his arms to face him. He stared into her wide beautiful blue eyes seeing her disbelief and her challenge. Her challenge to say the words he was dying to say, and had been dying to say for years. He smiled at her in a nervous but still smooth way as he kissed her forehead.

"I guess you think you figured out my question." He paused and Catherine opened her mouth to speak but couldn't find the words. Gil took advantage of this to continue.

"You told me you don't know who I really am. Well… in order to ask my question I have to ask two." He took a deep shaky breath that she could feel just as she could feel him shaking slightly.

"I love you." He said firmly staring her directly in the eyes his look intense and dead serious.

"I love you more than anything in the world. I know you better than I know anybody else in the world and I want to know if you want to know me. You already know me better than anybody else but still." At this point he fell to one knee in front of her taking her free hand in both of his. He took another breathe and feeling as if he was about to faint he spoke again.

"Catherine… would you be willing to spend the rest of you life with me, getting to know me better and letting me get to know you even better and letting me love you and loving me back? I'm rambling so I'll just say it. Catherine Willows, will you marry me?"

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